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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29935611">(further than the moon) bright as the sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesm/pseuds/jesm'>jesm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>falls like this (slowly, easily, brightly) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, canon compliant through s4e5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:53:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29935611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesm/pseuds/jesm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck and Eddie get together messily, with fits and starts, with bad timing and poor communication. Like this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>falls like this (slowly, easily, brightly) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>257</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. in other words, I love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Last part, but two chapters this time so not quite the end. This starts back in time a bit from where easy as pie ended to catch up with Eddie's POV and get a little fluff in before all the angst in late season 3 (and early season 4).<br/>As usual, I've included timeline details in the endnotes for reference.<br/>Thanks everyone who read, left kudo or commented so far. Your responses have been amazing. Hope you enjoy as we come to the end!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is no revelation. No Eureka moment. No, oh <em>this</em>, you, you’re the <em>one</em>.</p><hr/><p>Eddie is ready for the year to be over. Long past ready. It’s been a terrible year. A year where the universe was trying its best to push him past his breaking point—Shannon’s death, the tsunami, Buck’s <span class="pwa-mark decorator">injury</span> and the lawsuit. And he <span class="pwa-mark decorator">did break</span> under it, turned into someone he didn’t know and wouldn’t trust around his kid. But since then he’s been carefully, painfully putting himself back together, getting his feet under him on solid ground, getting back to an okay place inside his own head (thank God for Bobby and probably Frank, too). He knows the holidays and the New Year won’t offer a magical reset, but they feel like key milestones to put away this awful year. </p><p>Except Christmas isn’t going particularly well either<span class="pwa-mark decorator">, one</span> more punch aimed to knock him back off balance. Chris is sulky and downcast about the fact that Eddie has to work. Eddie feels guilty about it. He missed most of Chris’ early Christmases overseas, and now Chris is spending his first Christmas since Shannon died without his dad too. Eddie tried to make up for it by packing as much holiday spirit into the days leading up to Christmas as possible, but the look on Chris’ face when he dropped him off at Abuela’s made it obvious that it wasn’t enough. </p><p>“He’ll forgive you.” Hen says into the headset as if she’s reading his mind. </p><p>“I know. He’s forgiven me for more than missing Christmas. I still hate disappointing him.” </p><p>Hen nods understanding as the truck pulls back into the station. Eddie doesn’t pay <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Athena</span> appearing any mind until he catches sight of Buck’s grin. It’s his heart-on-his-sleeve, grand-gesture grin, and in Eddie’s experience that’s only ever something good. He doesn’t understand how Buck’s mind works, how he can give so much of himself to other people like it’s easy, because Eddie knows it <span class="pwa-mark decorator">hasn’t been any</span> easier for Buck, but where Eddie learned to build defensive walls, Buck remains the most open person Eddie’s ever known.</p><p>Even expecting a Christmas surprise, the sight upstairs still makes Eddie’s heart skip. Chris beams at him like Eddie’s never disappointed him in his life, and Eddie would give Buck anything in his power to give. </p><p> </p><p>After dinner and gifts, while Chris is showing off his new Lego set to Denny, Eddie looks around for Buck. He spots him leaning against a beam along the side of the loft. The firehouse is full of <span class="pwa-mark decorator">happy chatter</span> and the kids’ giggles. There are festive garlands and a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling nearby. Buck’s watching everyone enjoy the party he staged with a distant expression on his face. </p><p>Eddie joins him and knocks his shoulder into Buck’s in greeting. “Thanks for this. I really thought this Christmas was going to be <span class="pwa-mark decorator">a huge disappointment</span> for him, but he’s having a great time.” Eddie says.</p><p>“For you and Chris, anything.” Buck answers.</p><p>He says it casually, like it’s a fact without doubt. Unthinking, Eddie rocks forward and presses a quick, chaste kiss to Buck’s lips. When he pulls back, Buck meets his gaze with a question in his eyes. Eddie pointedly ignores the way his heart is pounding in his chest, smiles, and nods up towards the mistletoe. Buck follows the gesture and smiles as well.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Buck.” He says.</p><p>“Merry Christmas.” Buck echoes.</p><p>Eddie shifts so he can lean against the beam as well, arm brushing against Buck’s, and they settle into watching the celebration. Eddie’s hyper aware of the feeling of Buck’s arm against his, the soft warmth of his skin, the curling line of his muscles, and the casual brush of his fingers against Eddie’s. </p><p>He wants to tell Buck what he means to him, about how special and amazing he is. But he doesn’t have the right words to keep it simple. If he says anything, he’ll have to say everything, and—</p><p><em>I’m not ready. I don’t know when I will be ready, but when I am, I think you’re what I want. </em>Except that sounds like he’s asking Buck to wait. Part of him hopes he will, but it’s a small, selfish part because that’s not fair to Buck. Buck who gives his heart away like it’s infinite, who is so obviously lonely sometimes it hurts to see, who deserves someone right now who will give as much to him as he gives to others. And that person is not Eddie, might never be Eddie, as he struggles to move on from guilt and anger and the mess in his own head.</p><p>So Eddie says nothing in words, just leans more into Buck’s side to whisper with a touch that Buck’s not alone on Christmas. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you have day-after Christmas plans with Maddie?” Eddie asks. Just because he’s never been good at grand gestures (or gifts<span class="pwa-mark decorator">, for that matter</span>) doesn’t mean he can’t try to repay Buck for the surprise Christmas party. He’s good at the little, ordinary things.</p><p>Buck shakes his head. “She’s doing something low-key with Chimney today.” Buck closes his locker and turns towards Eddie, leaning back against the lockers with his hands tucked into his pockets. </p><p>“You want to join me and Chris? I told him we could make Christmas waffles after I pick him up from Abuela’s. Of course, that was originally to make up for not getting to see him on Christmas, but somehow I don’t think he’ll let me off the hook even after the party.” </p><p>“Sure, meet you at your place in about an hour?”</p><p>It doesn’t matter that it’s been a long shift, so they’ll both need to sleep and Carla won’t be over to take Chris until the afternoon. Time spent with Buck is relaxing. Plus, Eddie has little confidence in his waffle making abilities, so backup wouldn’t hurt.</p><p>They head out of the station together,<span class="pwa-mark decorator"> and</span> Buck nudges his shoulder. “Uh, Eddie, what exactly are <em>Christmas </em>waffles?”</p><p>“You make them with leftover mashed potatoes. It’s a holiday tradition from Shannon. She used to make them with her mom and then with Chris, too.” His smile’s a little sad and a little hopeful, because Shannon and her mom are both gone, but he and Chris can keep some of their Christmas traditions going. Buck nods, and Eddie wonders if he’s thinking about his own childhood traditions. Except other than spending time with Maddie, he never talks about any.</p><p>“So this is something you've done before?” Buck asks.</p><p>“We didn’t make any last year so, actually<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>no.” </p><p>Buck snorts. “<span class="pwa-mark decorator">In other words, there</span>’s a fifty-fifty chance they’ll be inedible and we’re going to go hungry.” </p><p>“Why do you think I’m inviting backup?” Buck’s grin makes Eddies heart swoop. “I also have half a freezer full of tamales if we get desperate.” Eddie doesn’t think he’s a bad enough cook to warrant the amount of teasing he gets from Chris and Buck, but he’s also never enjoyed cooking, so the teasing doesn’t actually bother him. </p><p>They part ways in the parking lot. Traffic’s a treat, so it takes half the usual time to get to Abuela’s. Eddie doesn’t believe in Christmas miracles, but he’ll happily take a few hours of light traffic and a couple days where he doesn’t feel like he’s disappointing everyone he loves. </p><p>Abuela pulls him into the house, decorated to the rafters with generations of homemade decorations, proof that his father had once been Chris’ age and no better at making angels. She asks if he’s called his parents, scolding half in Spanish, half English, when the answer’s no, and loads him up with enough food he <span class="pwa-mark decorator">won't</span> need to cook again until February. It takes three trips for Eddie to carry all the food and presents out to the truck, but Eddie knows trying to turn any of it down would <span class="pwa-mark decorator">be a lost</span> cause before he starts. </p><p>Chris talks excitedly and too fast for Eddie to catch it all on the drive home. The highlights seem to be, in ever changing order, the station Christmas party, a kid’s gardening kit, Athena’s chocolate pie, and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Pepa</span>’s peppermint cookies. He underlines the last by digging a plastic container out of the box of food and handing Eddie a cookie. It’s not the healthiest breakfast, but it’s a taste of his childhood <span class="pwa-mark decorator">as well as</span> holiday care packages sent during both his tours, so he’ll make an exception for it.</p><p>They’re home before it occurs to Eddie he hasn’t let Chris know he invited Buck, and this was Chris’ special request. Chris mumbles and falls quiet when Eddie tells him. Eddie feels like he misjudged stepping off a curb, stumbling when the ground turns out to be further down than he thought. He stops trying to figure out how to fit the month’s supply of leftovers into the fridge and sits with Chris at the kitchen table so they can have a serious conversation. Chris is toying with the bowl of mashed potatoes, sticking a spoon into it them over and over, and doesn’t look up at Eddie.</p><p>“Hey, Chris. I’m sorry, I should have asked first. I know this is something special you used to do with your mom and you miss her.” </p><p>A soft sucking sound accompanies Chris’ fidgeting every time he pulls the spoon out, and he keeps his gaze on the potatoes like they’re the most fascinating item in the kitchen. Eddie winces.</p><p>“If you really want, I’ll let Buck know and we can do waffles first, just us, and hang out with Buck later. But,” Chris finally looks up, well attuned to <em>yes you can have what you want but, </em>and Eddie has to fight a grin that would ruin the parental tone he’s aiming for. "Buck loves Christmas too, and he worked really hard to make sure you got a special day yesterday. So do you think we can share our special thing with him today?”</p><p>Chris chews on his bottom lip, thinking it over, but Eddie’s confident in the response now. “Okay, Buck can make waffles with us.” </p><p>“Thanks, Chris. I think that’ll make Buck <span class="pwa-mark decorator">really happy</span>.” Eddie says and Chris beams, initial misgivings already forgotten.</p><p>“What does Buck do special for Christmas?” Chris asks.</p><p>“I don’t know, bud, you’ll have to ask him.” </p><p>They’re spreading waffle ingredients out on the kitchen table, and Eddie’s <span class="pwa-mark decorator">managed to get</span> most of the other food put away when Buck arrives. He brought more cookies and Eddie resolves to send half the sweets plus whatever food he can’t fit in the fridge home with Buck. He’s freshly showered, curls fluffier than usual, and he smells of the woodsy soaps he likes as he leans next to Eddie at the counter.</p><p>“Hey, Buck, what do you like to do special for Christmas?” Chris asks. </p><p>Buck smiles at Chris, because he <em>always </em>smiles at Chris, but Eddie feels him tense a little, and he takes a moment to answer. “Well, Maddie and I loved to go crazy with decorations. I mean, we’d cover the house, floor to ceiling, every surface. And Maddie would make up themes in different areas for me to guess.” He’s lighter by the end, drawing up genuinely happy memories.</p><p>“Cool!” Chris says, with a glance to Eddie that makes him think he’ll <span class="pwa-mark decorator">be doing themed</span> decorations next year.</p><p>“Yeah, it was cool. Maddie’s the best. But I can’t wait to try your special Christmas waffles.” Buck says with a huge <span class="pwa-mark decorator">grin</span> Chris mimics.</p><p>The waffles turn out delicious, which Eddie takes zero credit for, and the kitchen looks like a tornado of flour and potatoes passed through (also not on Eddie). They leave <span class="pwa-mark decorator">clean</span>-up for later to play with the staggering array of presents Chris got and eat lunch, mostly cookies. </p><p>Chris dumps his new pirate ship Lego kit out across the coffee table. He’s independent enough and getting decent at following directions, so he doesn’t ask for much help. Eddie’s content to sit on the floor and watch him, Buck stretched out half asleep on the couch behind him.</p><p>“Turns out Christmas didn’t suck this year.” Eddie says quietly, turning to look at Buck over his shoulder. </p><p>Buck hums agreement and yawns, eyes drifting closed. “Thanks for inviting me, Eds.” </p><p>His hand brushes the back of Eddie’s neck as he squirms to get more comfortable, then stays there, fingers toying idly with Eddie’s hair. Eddie drops his head back onto the couch, Buck’s fingers shifting to comb through the slightly longer hair at his temple, and lets himself drift into easy, half sleep too.</p><hr/><p>Buck texts Eddie when he leaves the call center. It’s instinct at this point. He’s had a terrifying, stressful day, so he goes to Eddie’s.</p><p>“How’s Maddie?” Eddie greets. He brushes his hand along Buck’s forearm and takes his wrist to pull him inside. </p><p>“She’s good. Chimney’s looking after her and the paramedics didn’t think she needed to get checked out at the hospital or anything.”</p><p>Chris shouts his greeting from the kitchen and Buck calls hello back.</p><p>Eddie points towards the kitchen. “We were going to go for an afternoon hike. Actually, it was going to be a morning hike, but someone got a slow start this morning. Chris is making trail mix. If you’re up for it. If not, we can just hang here.”</p><p>“No, I don’t want to mess up your plans. And a hike sounds nice.” </p><p>Really, any afternoon spent with Chris<span class="pwa-mark decorator"> and</span> Eddie sounds good. Plus, Eddie in cargo shorts and an obscenely formfitting t-shirt promises to be distracting enough Buck won’t be dwelling on all the ways today could have gone horribly wrong. </p><p>Chris emerges from the kitchen carrying an extra large Ziploc bag of trail mix in one hand, which looks to be at least half chocolate chips and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">M&amp;Ms</span>. Buck smiles. </p><p>“Are you coming to Griffith Park with us, Buck?” Chris asks, handing the trail mix bag to Eddie to pack into their daypack. He resettles his grip on his crutch and frowns at Buck’s white tennis shoes. “Those are dumb shoes for hiking.” He proclaims.</p><p>“They are.” Buck agrees.</p><p>Eddie laughs. “It’s a chill trail and with your long legs, you shouldn’t have any trouble keeping up, but they will get dusty.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m still game to go.” </p><p>Eddie grins up at him from where he’s <span class="pwa-mark decorator">crouched</span> shoving a couple water bottles and Chris’ jacket into the pack. And yeah, that’s definitely pleasantly distracting. </p><p>They pile into Eddie’s truck and drive out to Griffith Park. The trail’s a well-packed, old fire road, busy with people out for a run, walking dogs, and parents with young kids. They set a relaxed pace, but it’s still a hot LA afternoon and Buck’s sweating as soon as they step out into the sun. </p><p>The trail winds slowly up towards the Observatory and in typical LA hills fashion, doesn’t offer much respite from the afternoon sun despite the trees lining the trail. The Observatory itself peaks through the trees as they walk. They chat idly about work and friends and Chris’ school.</p><p>At the top, they find a seat on a low, broad bench that gives them a view out across the valley. The Pacific sparkles in the distance, sunlight refracting off swells so it looks like a sheet of blue diamonds stretched across the horizon, bright enough Buck has to squint to look at it. The city sprawls at their feet, reaching fingers up the hills and out into the ocean, beautiful in its own way. </p><p>“I never <span class="pwa-mark decorator">get tired</span> of views like this.” Eddie says, leaning back on his hands, head tilted slightly, and a soft smile on his face.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> a pretty <span class="pwa-mark decorator">great view</span>.” Buck says, gaze trailing down the curve of Eddie’s throat. Eddie shoots him a look and bursts out laughing, throwing his head back further.</p><p>“God, that’s a cheesy line. Do those actually work for you?” </p><p>“Yes. I <span class="pwa-mark decorator">don’t usually</span> have to try very hard.” </p><p>Eddie’s laughter trails off and the next look he gives Buck is different, but he drags his eyes back to the scenic view before Buck can decipher it. “I meant the ocean. Don’t think I’ll ever <span class="pwa-mark decorator">get tired</span> of it.”</p><p>“I haven’t, and I’ve been up and down both coasts.” Buck says.</p><p>“Up and down both coasts, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah, I traveled a bit after I left Pennsylvania. Before settling in LA at the 118.” He doesn’t elaborate, both because he doesn’t usually and because the expression on Eddie’s face is strange. Eddie’s gaze moves to Chris, where he’s playing with a pair of girls about his age, then darts to the green-brown California hillside behind them before settling back on Chris.</p><p>“Sounds like an adventure.” Eddie says. There’s a heaviness in his tone that doesn’t fit the words. “Did you see everything you wanted?”</p><p>It’s not a question Buck gets asked often, and he has to think about it. “I didn’t really have an itinerary or a list. Never made it up to Canada, though I prefer somewhere sunny, anyway.”</p><p>“I’ve never made it out of the desert.” Eddie says.</p><p>“Well, what’s on your list to see?”</p><p>Eddie shrugs. “Never thought about it.” Buck finally places the tone, something akin to disappointment, but in the way Eddie handles disappointment, like he figures he never deserved whatever it was<span class="pwa-mark decorator"> in the first place</span>. It sinks claws into Buck’s heart and tugs. </p><p>“Come on, everyone has a bucket list of places to visit someday.” He pokes Eddie’s leg. Eddie shakes his head. Buck changes tactics. “Hey, Chris?”</p><p>Chris waves goodbye to his new friends and comes right over. “Yeah?”</p><p>“If you could go anywhere, see any place, where would you want to go?” Eddie’s look says he knows exactly what Buck’s doing, but they both know it’ll work. </p><p>Chris chews on his lip, thinking, and climbs up on the bench next to Buck, leaning a little against his side. Buck’s not usually is this center <span class="pwa-mark decorator">spot,</span> between the Diazs, and it’s nice.</p><p>“Tropical reef,” Chris decides. “I wanna go snorkeling and see all the cool fishes and weird looking coral like at the aquarium.” </p><p>“Snorkeling sounds fun.” Buck says.</p><p>“And the rainforest,” Chris adds, “with <span class="pwa-mark decorator">huge trees</span> and a zipline. Dad? What about you?”</p><p> See, Buck knows what he’s doing. </p><p>“Those are <span class="pwa-mark decorator">good choices</span>.” Eddie says. He reaches across Buck to ruffle Chris’ hair and the move shifts him closer, pressed against Buck’s side. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">His skin is sun</span>-warmed, a little sweaty from the walk and a little dusty from the trail. Buck wants to keep this moment suspended in time, captured in a way a photo can’t, with Eddie and Chris on either side, with the heat of the sun, and the background sounds of the crowd, and the sense of belonging to something.</p><p>“Nothing to add, Eddie?” Buck presses.</p><p>Eddie turns his head to look at Buck, and their faces are close enough Buck can see the different hues of brown in his eyes. He pulls away, though not far, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.</p><p>“Chris, tell Buck what you learned the other day about California’s <span class="pwa-mark decorator">big trees</span>.” </p><p>“Redwoods.” Chris replies promptly. “They’re the tallest trees in the world. And the Giant Sequoias are the biggest. They name the huge ones after old generals, like Grant and Sherman; that’s the biggest.” Buck knows that; it was in something he read about the area when he first moved to LA, but he smiles at the pride in Chris’ voice.</p><p>“I want to go there.” Eddie says. It’s a very Eddie response, special in a practical, straightforward sort of way. </p><p>“Yep, we should do that.” Buck says. Eddie gives him a considering look. “I haven’t been yet.” </p><p>“Sure, we should.” Eddie says, packing their water bottles and trail mix back into his pack. He stands and stretches, and Buck’s eyes <span class="pwa-mark decorator">are pulled</span> along the curve of his spine and over the strip of exposed skin across his stomach. </p><p>“We should also head back home and get some dinner.” Eddie says as he slings the backpack over his shoulder. “Ready to go Chris?” </p><p>They pass the family with two girls on their way back to the trail, and the girls call goodbye to Chris again. Chris calls and waves enthusiastically back. Moments like these, with Chris so easily and openly making friends everywhere he goes, Buck wonders what Eddie was like at his age, if he was the same or if he was always more selective.</p><p>“You have a charming son.” The woman says. She looks between the three of them as she adds, “and you all make such a cute family.” </p><p>“Thanks.” Eddie says. There's nothing special in his tone, no hesitance or dry humor; he just says it, like it's something he says all the time.</p><p> </p><p>Eddie’s not sure what wakes him that night, a noise or simply his own restlessness. He checks on Chris, who’s sleeping soundly. He still has an occasional nightmare about the tsunami or Shannon or both, but they’re less frequent than Eddie’s own. The last time Chris got himself back to sleep and only told Eddie about it in the morning, which was a bittersweet reminder of how much and how quickly he was growing up. </p><p>Eddie moves on into the living room, where Buck is awake and sitting up against the arm of the couch. The light from his phone casts his face in stark patterns, highlighting his cheekbones and jaw.</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep?” </p><p>Buck jumps at the sound of Eddie’s voice and drops his phone into the mess of blankets twisted around his legs. </p><p>“Shit, Eddie, you startled me.” He turns towards Eddie, but <span class="pwa-mark decorator">his expression is lost</span> in the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">dimness of the living</span> room. All Eddie gets is a vague impression and the glow of his eyes. “And what about you?”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep.” Eddie says matter-of-factly and walks over. </p><p>He leans his arms on the back of the couch next to Buck. It puts their faces close together, enough that Eddie can make out the faint scent of his shampoo and individual hairs on his jaw even in the darkness. Buck’s gaze moves over Eddie’s face, and he could <span class="pwa-mark decorator">be imagining</span> the look in his eyes or the way they catch and linger on his lips, but he probably isn’t, not with how they’ve been prodding at each other lately, Buck flirting openly, Eddie drifting in warily. Eddie knows he has feeling for Buck, <span class="pwa-mark decorator">is drawn</span> to everything about him, but he isn’t sure yet he if can be good for Buck, and he isn’t willing to risk their partnership when he isn’t certain. </p><p>Buck’s position looks uncomfortable, feet reaching the opposite arm of the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">couch</span> even half-sitting. It’s unlikely the reason he isn’t sleeping, but it probably doesn’t help either. Eddie circles around the couch and pulls Buck’s hand. He stands, following Eddie’s lead even as he makes a questioning noise.</p><p>He shrugs, feeling self-conscious. “Come on. You’re never going to get a good night’s sleep like that. If Maddie’s going to make a regular habit of this almost dying thing, I need to get a longer couch.”</p><p>“Eddie, it’s after three. The ship’s already sailed on a good night’s sleep for both of us.” Buck says, but he keeps following Eddie down the hall, even after Eddie drops his hand.</p><p>Eddie waits for Buck to crawl into bed first, watching as he stretches and settles, and pushing away the way it makes his chest feel warm and tight. Buck watches him too when Eddie climbs in next to him. Eddie half expects him to make a flirtatious comment, but he’s quiet. Eddie settles close to him and taps his shoulder; quiet isn’t a good look on Buck.</p><p>“You okay?” Eddie asks. </p><p>“Fine,” Buck says, and, as if to prove it, he closes his eyes. “Thanks for distracting me today.” </p><p>“Is that what I was doing? Distracting you?” He can hear Buck swallow. </p><p>“Entertaining.” Buck amends.</p><p>Buck squirms to get comfortable, throwing his arm out across the top of Eddie’s pillow. Eddie turns onto his side and slips into the space next to him, pillowing his head on Buck’s shoulder and stretching his arm over Buck’s stomach. He can feel Buck’s breath hitch and the muscles of his stomach jump under his hand. </p><p>“Okay?” Eddie asks. </p><p>“Yeah.” Buck drops his arm across Eddie’s back, hand resting first on his shoulder <span class="pwa-mark decorator">then</span> sliding to his waist, long fingers spread across his ribs. “I’m good. Thanks, Eddie.” Finally Buck relaxes against him, dropping off into sleep, and Eddie follows.</p><hr/><p>Time is strange. Eddie’s aware of it passing<span class="pwa-mark decorator"> in detail</span>, but he’s aware of it from the outside, like he’s not <span class="pwa-mark decorator">participating</span> in it. He’s aware of the ride from the farmhouse with the rain hammering on the roof of the ambulance like gunfire. It takes forty-six minutes over partially flooded roads, with Eddie wrapped in an emergency blanket and Hen monitoring his vitals. Hen tries to talk to him at <span class="pwa-mark decorator">first</span> then lets him sit in silence.</p><p>It’s the same at the hospital. He waits for twelve minutes before he’s given a room, heated blankets, and a warm IV. People—doctors, nurses, his team—circulate. Buck brings him a set of warm and dry clothes: his own sweats and socks, one of Buck’s long-sleeved shirts, and an LAFD sweatshirt from somewhere.</p><p>He calls Chris. Abuela wakes him just so Eddie can say goodnight. They talk for eight <span class="pwa-mark decorator">minutes</span>, but Chris is groggy and yawning.</p><p>Eddie’s temperature rises and the doctor’s discharge him. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">The hospital is crowded</span> with a storm like this one. Buck volunteers to drive him home, but Bobby overrules him. It’s still raining hard, a vertical river that reminds him of Texas thunderstorms. Athena pulls the car right up to the hospital doors, so Eddie settles into the back<span class="pwa-mark decorator">seat</span> dry and relatively warm.</p><p>Buck joins him in the backseat. Bobby takes the front. They’re still dressed in their on-call uniforms, splattered with mud and damp in places. They smell of sweat, rain, and wet earth. Buck’s curls have dried into a chaotic mess.</p><p>Buck fidgets, knees bouncing and breathing <span class="pwa-mark decorator">harsh</span>. It tugs at Eddie and focuses <span class="pwa-mark decorator">him</span>. He knows how to help Buck calm down when he’s wound up or anxious, so he reaches over and rests his hand lightly on Buck’s leg. He stills under Eddie’s touch, thigh muscles relaxing, and his breathing eases. His hand wraps around Eddie’s wrist, fingers digging into his pulse point. They stay like that, anchored to each other, the rest of the ride home, and Eddie finds he’s not as aware of each minute passing anymore.</p><p>When they get home, Eddie makes a beeline for Chris’ room, wanting to see him and wrap him up in a hug, but remembers halfway that Chris is at Abuela’s and stops.</p><p>“Want to call him? Or we could go over there. I can get an Uber.” Buck offers.</p><p>Eddie shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I called him from the hospital to say goodnight. I just<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>fuck, I just wanted to hug him.”</p><p>“I know. Me too.” Buck’s watching him intently with an expression Eddie’s never seen before. It makes him look fragile, hairline fractures through glass that’ll shatter under the slightest pressure. He whispers Eddie’s name, hesitant and questioning.</p><p>Eddie takes two strides to close the space between them. He catches Buck’s hips to pull him in and tucks his fingers under the hem of his shirt, thumbs running over the warm, smooth skin of his sides. Buck makes a wounded noise and his arms circle Eddie, hands fisting into the back of Eddie’s sweatshirt.</p><p>“Shh, it’s okay. I’m fine.” Eddie says.</p><p>He tightens his hold on Buck’s hips and rocks up onto his toes. He presses a kiss to the center of Buck’s forehead, and kisses over his eyebrows and cheekbones. He can taste salt on Buck’s skin.</p><p>Buck’s grip on him is hard enough to be painful, fingers digging into his back, but it’s a pain Eddie doesn’t mind. He presses another gentle kiss to Buck’s lips. He means it to be the last, to say <em>we’re here, we’re fine, it’s okay</em>. But Buck chases as Eddie drops <span class="pwa-mark decorator">down </span>on his heels, crashing into him in a wild, desperate kiss. It knocks Eddie back half a step and punches a surprised grunt out of his throat. His hands slide up of their own accord to get a better hold on Buck and steady them both.</p><p>Buck’s warm skin under his hands, Buck’s heart beating against his chest, Buck’s lips hot and insistent on his, are better than all the warm IVs and heated blankets at the hospital. He opens to the kiss, and Buck licks inside, tangling their tongues together. </p><p>Buck gulps in air when he pulls <span class="pwa-mark decorator">back</span> and Eddie’s heart is beating as hard against the inside of his ribs as it was when he thought he was going to drown. There’s an intensity to the moment and tension in the air that isn’t only heat and lust. </p><p>For a second Eddie loses his hold on the present, his mind skipping and tripping over the past. It’s cold and dark in the house, like nights in the desert. The pinging of the rain is too loud. He hangs onto Buck, leaning into his heavy presence, listening to his ragged breathing. It hits him, not suddenly in a wave but slowly, water rising inexorably over him, how close he came to dying tonight.</p><p>“It’s okay.” He says it aloud even though he means it mostly for himself, but he can see his own realization mirrored in Buck’s eyes, raw and deep. He keeps stroking his thumbs over Buck’s skin. The muscles of his waist are hard and taut under Eddie’s hands, his skin <span class="pwa-mark decorator">smooth and soft</span>. “Hey, I’m here. Whatever you need.”</p><p>Buck makes a pained sound, and Eddie’s hands clench reflectively, nails probably leaving red crescents on Buck’s skin. Buck kisses him again, as hard and hungry as his first kiss. Eddie thrusts his tongue into the velvet heat of Buck’s mouth and tries to press closer. Buck curls his fingers into Eddie’s hair, tugging gently until Eddie <span class="pwa-mark decorator">angels</span> his head back to give Buck room to scatter kisses across his jaw.</p><p>Eddie presses into Buck’s touch, anchoring himself in it the way he has for <span class="pwa-mark decorator">awhile</span> now. He keeps talking, without even thinking about what he’s saying, quiet words of reassurance that spill from his lips as Buck trails kisses along his throat.</p><p>Buck’s trembling. Eddie runs his hands up Buck’s sides, down over his stomach, feeling the skin jump and the movement of his muscles as he gasps in breaths between kisses, and Eddie tries to press reassurances into him through his fingers. But it doesn’t seem like enough.</p><p>He hooks his fingers into the hem of Buck’s shirt, tugging it off over his head before finding Buck’s lips again. The fervor of the kiss sends them stumbling, knocking into the wall, then a sidetable. They almost send a lamp tumbling to the floor, but Eddie instinctively throws a hand out to save it. He throws his other arm around Buck’s neck, digging his fingers into the hard muscle of his shoulder and holding on as tightly as he can.</p><p>They turn and crash into the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">couch,</span> the impact sending flares of pain out from the bruises across Eddie’s back. Buck swallows Eddie’s curse off his lips and it drops into a moan when the kiss deepens. Buck echoes the sound deep in his throat, his tongue tracing the inside of Eddie’s mouth like he plans to draw it from memory. </p><p>They break away for Buck to pull Eddie’s sweatshirt off, but he can’t seem to manage the henley and Eddie’s too impatient to give him much time on the task, dragging him into another kiss and arching into him. </p><p>There’s a small voice in his head that says tonight isn’t the best time for this<span class="pwa-mark decorator">, the</span> same part of him that knew falling immediately into bed with Shannon wasn’t his smartest move, but it’s drowned out by the moment. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">By</span> the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">way</span> Buck’s kissing him like it’s vital. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">By</span> the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">heat</span> the spikes through him as they grind against each other. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">By</span> the stronger voice that says it’ll be okay because he fits with Buck.</p><p>He pushes them off the back of the couch and towards the hall. It’s not graceful, Buck knocking into the edge of the wall and Eddie tripping over Chris’ backpack, but they make it into Eddie’s room. Eddie twists away from Buck’s lips and hands to pull his shirt off, but when he moves back <span class="pwa-mark decorator">in</span> the look on Buck’s face gives him pause.</p><p>“Buck?”</p><p>Eddie steps forward slowly as Buck rakes his gaze over the cuts and bruises scattered across his body. He cups his hand around the back of Buck’s neck, scratching his fingers through his hair, and Buck flicks his eyes up to meet Eddie’s. He still can’t read the expression there, but he offers a smile. He thinks Buck wants this, and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">his own concerns and questions are buried</span> under forty feet of earth.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>Buck answers with another kiss. There’s a discordant tone to it. The timing is probably wrong, but it’s not a thought Eddie’s going to linger on, not when he can instead linger on working a hickey into the hollow of Buck’s throat. Buck presses into him again so they tumble ungracefully onto the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Buck wakes up feeling hungover—throat dry, head pounding, a slick, empty feeling in his gut. Eddie’s still asleep, curled a short distance away, one hand resting on Buck’s hip.</p><p>Buck gives himself several minutes to savor the feeling of Eddie’s hand, the rough callouses on his palm, how his fingers are heavy and loose in sleep. He knows, now, how those callouses feel running over his skin and how strong and gentle those fingers can be, and it fuels the empty clenching of his stomach.</p><p>He considers, for a minute, waking Eddie up, getting whatever comes next over with. He can’t be certain how the rejection will go, but he knows Eddie would try to make it painless. He’d be soft and sympathetic and firm in his position that this was a onetime thing, under the extenuating circumstances of Eddie almost dying and Buck freaking out. He’d convince Buck to stick around for breakfast, and try to show him with a hug or a hand on his arm that their friendship was fine.</p><p>But Buck wants none of that right now—wants everything and nothing Eddie <span class="pwa-mark decorator">is willing to</span> give. So he’s careful not to wake Eddie as he gets up and gathers his clothes from the floor, including the long-sleeved shirt he’d gotten from his bag that Eddie wore home from the hospital. He <span class="pwa-mark decorator">gets</span> dressed in the living room. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">His uniform pants from yesterday are splattered</span> with mud and disgusting to put back on. He pulls his phone out and summons an Uber home.</p><p>The sound of Eddie’s footsteps draws his attention. He appears from the hallway dressed in dark gray sweats, and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Buck's</span> throat goes dry. He looks comfy and at ease, still soft around the edges from sleep. Buck drinks the sight in and, <em>fuck</em>, he’s beautiful. As beautiful <span class="pwa-mark decorator">like</span> this as he was last night, head back, bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he tries to stay quiet, eyelids fluttering right before—</p><p>But Buck’s roving gaze settles on Eddie’s hip, where the welt and growing bruise are nearly as dark as the fabric of his sweats, and his thoughts trip—the line going slack in his hands, Bobby dragging him away, the expression on Hen’s face when she said no one thought he was dead, Eddie pale and shivering and hooked up to IVs at the hospital, eyelids fluttering closed from exhaustion.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Buck says automatically and gestures vaguely. He’s not sure what he’s apologizing for, but he’s certain there are plenty of <span class="pwa-mark decorator">bad decisions</span> in the mix to choose from.</p><p>Eddie frowns. “It’s okay. Buck—”</p><p>“I called an Uber.” He cut’s in, aware he’s being evasive.</p><p>Eddie’s expression <span class="pwa-mark decorator">is complicated</span> for a moment before he smooths it back into just a slight frown. He shifts back to lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.</p><p>“Okay.” Eddie says.</p><p>The silence is dense<span class="pwa-mark decorator"> and</span> the air sits heavy in his lungs, making breathing difficult. Buck glances at his phone<span class="pwa-mark decorator">, his</span> ride is still several minutes out. He looks back up at Eddie, who is watching him, brown eyes intent with an expression he can’t quite read, except he can feel Eddie waiting for him to say something else.</p><p>“So<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>that was dumb, right?” Buck says without knowing if he wants Eddie to agree or disagree with him.</p><p>Eddie’s quiet for a long moment. Buck’s heart slithers down his chest as the seconds tick <span class="pwa-mark decorator">by,</span> until it’s sitting like a rock in his stomach when Eddie answers.</p><p>“You don’t have to go.” Eddie says.</p><p>Buck glances at his phone. Two minutes.</p><p>It’s a moment of <em>what if</em>. What if he takes the offer to <span class="pwa-mark decorator">stay.</span> They could make something hot and filling for breakfast, take turns in the shower, lounge around in Eddie’s clothes until Chris comes home. Or what if he stands up and kisses Eddie <span class="pwa-mark decorator">again.</span> This time it’s a soft, lazy morning kiss, accompanied by easy, gentle touches, because there’s no desperate rush, no biting fear.</p><p><em>Whatever you need, </em>Eddie had said, easy and without question. And Buck <em>knows</em> Eddie. Knows he is a caregiver. Knows when he lets people in, he does it with his <span class="pwa-mark decorator">whole self</span>. Knows when he does, he needs to <span class="pwa-mark decorator">be cared</span> <em>for,</em> because he’ll break and bury pieces of himself for the people he chooses. So Buck knows <em>need </em>and <em>want </em>aren’t the same thing.</p><p>“Sure, but I need a shower and clean clothes.” Buck says.</p><p>“Yeah, you could certainly use both.”</p><p>The familiarity of Eddie’s teasing actually makes Buck smile, and he pushes off the back of the couch. “My ride’s almost here.”</p><p>In the chill light of dawn, Buck thinks his head is clearer, thinks he knows what Eddie wants and what’s best for their friendship. But <em>what if.</em> He pauses with his hand on the door and half turns back towards Eddie, though it’s hard to see him clearly on the other side of the shadowed <span class="pwa-mark decorator">hall.</span></p><p>“Are we—you okay? Do you want<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>anything?”</p><p>“I’m fine. I need a shower, too, and should pick up Chris for school. See you next shift?”</p><p>“Yep. Say hi to Chris for me.”</p><p>His Uber’s already pulling up, headlights spilling across Eddie’s front yard. Buck locks the door behind himself to keep Eddie safe, because he needs Eddie and the friendship they’ve built. Those needs weigh more than fragile wants and fleeting what ifs.</p><hr/><p>Buck expects it to be awkward, and it is, in a way. He notices and he’s sure Eddie notices, but he doesn’t think anyone else does. And it makes sense. Why would Bobby, Hen and Chim care <span class="pwa-mark decorator">that </span>Eddie calls his name instead of brushing his shoulder to get his attention or that Buck spends fewer evenings and no mornings at Eddie’s house so they never show up to work together? Or notice that there are a couple more feet between them when they walk beside each other or sit together on the couch, and Buck’s not sure if this is his doing or Eddie’s or both. These are tiny, inconsequential things that Buck himself was hardly aware of until they’re gone.</p><p>Maddie makes a vague comment about him having more time for dinner with her and Chimney. Chris asks Buck why he’s been so busy lately, to which Buck stammers some excuse he forgets a second later and looks at Eddie. Eddie gives him a shrug and a thin smile that tells Buck nothing of what he’s thinking. </p><p>But, mostly, they have their next shift together a couple days after the night Eddie nearly dies and things settle into normalcy. Except Buck is restless, searching, frustrated. The feeling of looking for something, but he can’t quite remember what, just like he misplaced something valuable and wants to find it.</p><p>Then Buck meets Red while celebrating in a bar alone, and Maddie calls him <em>lonely</em>. </p><p>It’s not an epiphany. But it’s one thing to know he’s lonely sometimes and another thing to hear his big sister call him lonely like it’s a state of being rather than a passing feeling. But he has Maddie and his team. Everything is fine with Eddie and he fixes things with Red in time to give him a good sendoff. So he can’t put his finger on why he’s <em>lonely</em>.</p><p>After Red dies, Maddie comes over to make sure he’s okay and reassure him he’s not alone. It’s good, even if it <span class="pwa-mark decorator">doesn’t change anything</span>.</p><p>“Do you think<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>do you think maybe the reason you’ve been single is you’re not really trying?” Maddie asks.</p><p>“Oh, wow, ouch, Maddie.” Buck dramatically claps his hands over his heart and smiles at his sister, even though the question cuts. “You remember you came over to be supportive, right? You were on a roll earlier with the whole ‘I’m your sister, you’ll always have me’ bit.” </p><p>“It’s just, since I’ve been here in LA, you’ve broken up with Abby, hooked up with that reporter, and dated Ali for a while.” </p><p>Maddie holds up fingers as she goes. Buck wishes she’d stop; he doesn’t want to listen to his sister lay out his failure of a love life like it’s some sort of pathetic check-list. At least she doesn’t know enough to add sleeping with Eddie to the list.</p><p>“But it’s been over two years, Buck, and that’s it. I haven’t seen you even try to date in at least a year. You spend all your time at work or at Eddie’s—”</p><p>“Eddie’s not the problem.” </p><p>Maddie frowns and Buck doesn’t blame her, because Eddie is a big part of the reason he hasn’t gotten serious about dating since Ali. </p><p>“I’m not saying he is, or that there’s anything wrong with that, if you’re happy, but you’re not. If you want to meet someone, <span class="pwa-mark decorator">you have to </span>put yourself out there again and make space for someone new.” </p><p>“I’m <em>tired</em>,Maddie. Tired of always putting myself out there just for it to not work. You don’t know what it’s like.”</p><p>“Evan, you can’t expect a relationship to just fall into your lap.”</p><p>“Says the person who’s dating one of my best friends and coworker.”</p><p>Maddie smiles sheepishly. “Yes, I got lucky. But if you’re waiting for that to happen, you might be alone for a long time and I worry about you.” </p><p>“I’m not <em>always </em>lonely. It’s just been a rough couple weeks.” <em>Months. </em></p><p>Maddie gives him a moist-eyed, sympathetic look. </p><p>It has been <em>rough </em>for a while, but it hasn’t been all bad. Buck loves his job and his team. He got to do an amazing rope rescue during a five-alarm fire. The look on Red’s face as he climbed into Bobby’s seat is one Buck will always remember and made him feel like he could make a difference, matter, not just at work. </p><p>“You know, I think I’m okay with waiting.” Buck says. Maddie gives him a judgmental look. “I don’t mean I’m waiting for a relationship to just drop into my lap, Maddie. But I can wait for the right opportunity.”</p><p>“Evan, you still have to <em>try.”</em></p><p><em>“</em>I will. Just, you know, not right now.” </p><p>Maddie still looks skeptical, so he almost tells her the rest, almost says, <em>I think I’ve been in love with Eddie, and he isn’t, so I need to figure out how to move on from that before I’m ready for someone new. </em></p><p> </p><p>It’s late when he calls Eddie, after Maddie leaves and after he spends most of an hour telling <span class="pwa-mark decorator">himself</span> he shouldn’t call Eddie. But he cared about Red, despite knowing him for a short time, and he’s grown accustom to going to Eddie when he’s upset, because Eddie listens to him, and looks at him, and tells him it’s okay. And when he does, Buck believes him.</p><p>Eddie doesn’t sound like he was asleep yet when he answers the phone, and before Buck can explain why he’s calling so late, Eddie cuts in. “I know. I heard about Red. You okay?” </p><p>Eddie’s voice is soft and warm, and it hits like a punch to the gut. Buck’s voice catches in his throat. He can hear Eddie breathing and moving on the other end of the line, but what he really wants is to be there with him, so Eddie can give him that <span class="pwa-mark decorator">calm, steady</span> look that makes Buck feel anchored.</p><p>“Buck?”</p><p>“No, not really.” </p><p>The noise from on the other end lessens, like <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Eddie</span> stopped whatever else he was doing, but Buck can still hear his breath, even as the silence stretches uncomfortably long.</p><p>“It’s silly. I didn’t even know him that well.” Buck says.</p><p>“You didn’t know him that <em>long</em>, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t know him well, doesn’t mean it’s silly to <span class="pwa-mark decorator">be hurt</span> that he’s gone. Some people just get at your heart quick.” </p><p>Buck knows that’s true for him, but it’s a little ironic coming from Eddie, and he can’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t be better off putting up more walls himself. He’s not sure he actually made Red’s life better, or Abby’s. </p><p>“Sure, sometimes.” Buck says.</p><p>“You sound very convinced.” Eddie says dryly. “What do you need?”</p><p><em>You. And probably a hug. </em>“Nothing. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Eddie’s quiet for another long moment. “You know, I always have your back. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Always</span>.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Buck says. He hadn’t fully believed it when they’d been talking over pool at the station, but late at night, just the two of them<span class="pwa-mark decorator">, he</span> can hear the promise in Eddie’s voice and belive it. “Thanks. Night, Eddie.”</p><p>“Night, Buck.”</p><hr/><p>What strikes Eddie most is the way they talk to each other. Or <span class="pwa-mark decorator">more specifically, </span>the way they yell at each other, because even in the middle of a mass casualty event fighting about her fiancee, it’s <span class="pwa-mark decorator">familiar and intimate</span>. After everything’s over, it’s still playing in a loop in Eddie’s head. He’s not sure if he’s jealous of Abby, for her history with Buck, or of Buck, for having an ex who’s around for him to still fight with, despite the hurt. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Neither</span> makes sense, and it’s probably a little of both. Which is where his head is at when Buck asks—</p><p>“What would you say to Shannon, if you could?" Eddie chokes on his beer and coughs. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">“</span>Sorry. That was—you don’t have to answer.” Buck says.</p><p>“No, it’s fine. I just<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>I don’t know what I’d say.”</p><p>Eddie studies him. He’s been tense since the call and doesn’t look like he slept well, the circles under his eyes stark against their pale blue. He’s picking at the label on his beer with his thumbnail. Eddie wants to reach across and cover Buck’s hand with his own, or work his thumbs into the tight muscles of his shoulders, or kiss the tension out of his jaw. He twitches forward before he stops himself. Buck thinks being with Eddie is a bad idea but still needs a friend, something that became clear to Eddie after Red. </p><p>“Would you even want to talk to her again? Abby asked to meet. To talk.” Buck’s voice is thin and soft around the edges. Eddie can’t bring himself to hate <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Abby,</span> as much as he’d prefer to. Anyone who meant—means—that much to Buck can’t be all bad.</p><p>“You loved her.” He says without meaning to.</p><p>Buck’s never said it, never said all that much about Abby, the way he never really talks about his parents or mentions friends from before the 118, like Maddie’s the only person from his past who’s real. Except now Abby’s real, too, and Eddie’s not sure what to do with that.</p><p>Buck’s fingers still on the bottle. “Yeah, I did. Abby’s the first person I ever loved like that.”</p><p>“If I could, I would talk to Shannon. I don’t know what I’d say, but I’d still want to talk to her. For a long time I was angry…” Buck arches his eyebrows with a <em>no shit</em> look, and Eddie smiles. “But I wasn’t just angry at her. I was angry at myself for not doing more and at<span class="pwa-mark decorator">…</span>at the way it happened. And the thing is, sometimes I’m still angry.” </p><p>Buck scoots in, chair scrapping over the kitchen floor, and his knee knocks into Eddie’s. “You okay?” He asks. His tone has changed, wound <span class="pwa-mark decorator">tight and tense</span> and holding something Eddie can’t name. Eddie huffs out a breath.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m figuring it out. But my point is, I never got to be angry <em>with</em> Shannon because <span class="pwa-mark decorator">she was gone</span> before we <span class="pwa-mark decorator">had a chance to talk</span> about it, or yell at each other, or anything. So yes, I’d talk to her. Even just to tell her I was mad.”</p><p>Buck’s gaze drifts over Eddie’s shoulder, out the window. Eddie leans forward, tapping his fingers on Buck’s leg to draw him back, and his eyes drop to Eddie’s hand instead.</p><p>“But I can’t. So what do <em>you</em> want to say to Abby?”</p><p>“I want to know why she didn’t come back.” Buck says.</p><p>“I don’t know Abby, but whatever that answer is, it probably won’t make you feel better about it, and it definitely won’t change that fact that she didn’t.”</p><p>Buck looks up to meet his gaze. “You don’t think I should meet with her?”</p><p>“I think you should consider what you want her to hear, more than what you want her to say. That’s the only side of the conversation you have control over.”</p><p>Buck arches his eyebrows with a grin. “You get that from Frank?”</p><p>Eddie rolls his eyes. “I got that from lived experiences. And maybe inspired by something Frank said once.” </p><p>“I guess I want to say, that I felt invisible, knowing I wasn’t even worth a call when she moved on.”</p><p>“But you moved on too?” If Eddie was taking his own advice, he wouldn’t <span class="pwa-mark decorator">ask the question</span> when he already knows the answer won’t be for him. Buck may still <span class="pwa-mark decorator">be stuck</span> on Abby, or he may have moved on ages ago, but either way he’s looking for someone besides Eddie. </p><p>“I don’t know.” Buck frowns. “No, I did move on. But I think I’ve been afraid, too. I was never that invested before Abby, so it was easy to move on, literally usually, when it didn’t work out. Turns out it’s a lot harder to let go when you actually love someone. Even when they don’t feel the same.” </p><p>“You deserve closure. And you deserve to be happy. With someone who makes you happy, if that’s what you want.” </p><p>“It is. I don’t actually like being perpetually single.” Buck says with a bashful smile.</p><p>If Eddie was taking his own advice, he’d say what he wants Buck to hear. <em>You’re not invisible, you’re loved. I’ll be here while you wait for what you’re looking for, and I’ll still be here for you when you find it.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. in other words, hold my hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It takes a while. There's a global pandemic, an old family secret, and more bad communication, so no one's having a good time of things, but they're getting it together, eventually.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whew, finally! I rewrote a bunch of this a few times but am pretty happy with how it came out. Note, this is 3 chapters now, but the last is short and I'm posting right after. If you're curious, chapter titles are from Fly Me to the Moon.</p>
<p>Thanks to everyone who's read/left kudos/commented/bookmarked. Seriously, it's amazing. Hope you enjoy and the payoff's worth the wait :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chris has been away at camp for three days and Eddie's unmoored. It's not that he has nothing to do. There's a list of house projects he hasn't gotten to yet and errands to run, but nothing he couldn't do just as easily if Chris were home, nothing that he needs Chris out the house for. The fact of the matter is, he doesn't let things into his life that inherently exclude Chris. Sure he enjoys the occasional night to himself when Chris sleeps over somewhere or weekday off while he's at school, but it's always with the sense that Chris comes first, that Eddie could drop everything and go to him if needed. Even at work, he knows Bobby and the team would have his back if something came up. So day three with Chris at camp, and Eddie’s going out of his mind with restlessness.</p>
<p>Eddie's not sure when it happened that he defined himself so completely as Chris’ dad that he doesn't know what to do with himself on his own. It didn't matter, maybe was even for the best, when Shannon had just left and Chris was six, but he's nine, almost ten, and aggressively independent, so Eddie needs to get used to not being needed all the time. </p>
<p>He texts Buck, who definitely laughs at him via emoji then says he's on his way over anyway. </p>
<p>They drive for awhile, out of LA, towards Santa Monica, passed the pier, which never fails to make Eddie want to hold his breath, like the superstition about passing a cemetery. Fog hangs in a thick blanket over the Pacific, but the 1 is bright and sunny, traffic crawling slow but consistent. </p>
<p>They keep driving, passed the big, showy houses that line the highway through Malibu, windows cracked with smell of the ocean drifting in, radio on low as they talk about whatever and nothing important. They stop for food at a roadside fish shack and add the smell of french fries and tarter sauce to the mix of briny seaweed and hot asphalt. </p>
<p>Buck turns off the highway when they’re north of <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Mailbu</span>, where the houses and shops are gone and the road’s just a narrow strip between the Santa Monica Mountains and the Pacific. He pulls the jeep to a stop in a half full parking lot. </p>
<p>“We going somewhere particular?” Eddie asks. He certainly hadn’t had a plan when he’d texted Buck, and he hasn’t explored enough outside LA to have any idea what’s around.</p>
<p>“Leo Carrillo beach. You haven’t been here?” Buck says. Eddie shakes his head. “Watch a movie. If there’s a beach scene, it was probably filmed here. Grease, for example.” </p>
<p>Eddie snorts. “I haven’t seen Grease since I was a teenager.”</p>
<p>“But tell me the truth, you were a John Travolta fan, right?” Buck asks with a grin. Eddie ignores the question and hops out of the jeep. </p>
<p>“Well, come on slowpoke, thought you were taking me to the beach.” Eddie says as he shuts the door and starts across the parking lot. Buck scrambles out after him.</p>
<p>“Why is it I’m taking you to the beach? You’re the one who texted me. Shouldn’t you be taking me somewhere.” </p>
<p>“Sure, but you drove. Besides, it’s a public beach; it’s not like I’m making you pay.” </p>
<p>Their shoulders knock together as they turn into a pedestrian tunnel under the highway. There’s a faded ocean mural on the side and the smells and sounds of the ocean are heavy on the air that whips through the tunnel. </p>
<p>They step out onto loose dusty sand then Buck leads them up from the beach to the bluffs above. A strong breeze off the water makes it chilly, but neither of them are dressed for swimming anyway and the crowd is thin.</p>
<p>“I came out here camping with my roommates once. It was just after I moved to LA.” Buck says. His tone’s a little soft, like it’s more meaningful then the casual words imply.</p>
<p>“And you’ve just been looking for an excuse to come back since?” Eddie asks and gets a puppy-dog smile from Buck.</p>
<p>“Well, we were already all the way to Malibu when I remembered. And I thought you’d like the bluffs.” Buck gestures broadly.</p>
<p>It’s a great view. The bluffs stretch north as far as he can see, curving around isolated sandy coves and shooting rocky fingers out into the ocean, waves crashing against them in sprays of white foam.</p>
<p>“Thanks, I do.” Eddie says.</p>
<p>Buck grins. “Also, there are caves.” </p>
<p>They walk along the bluffs for a while then cut down to one of the coves to lounge on the beach and poke around the little caves carved into the bluff by the inescapable power of the waves. The feeling of being at home—in California, with Buck—rises slowly, like the tide, and Eddie finds himself smiling without thinking about it. They return to the jeep only when the wind picks up in late afternoon and it gets cold enough to be uncomfortable. </p>
<p>“Hey, thanks for distracting me today.” Eddie says, settling back comfortably in the passenger seat. “I kinda needed that.” </p>
<p>“I told you not to let Chris go to sleep-away camp.” Buck says. Eddie suspects he’s been holding onto that I-told-you-soall day.</p>
<p>“You thought <em>he </em>would get homesick. He’s loving it.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I just said that to spare your feelings.” Buck teases.</p>
<p>Eddie scoffs, but he wants to keep this, how effortless it is to spend time with Buck, the way Buck can take something simple and turn it into something special. The only thing that could make it better where if Chris were with them, but he’s having a great time at camp and Eddie keeps telling himself to step back let him enjoy it. </p>
<p>There’s a soft, insistent voice in his head that says he’s just borrowing time, that Buck, eventually, will find someone better to do these things with and Eddie will have to learn to share him, too. But for now he ignores it, instead turning on the radio and smiling as Buck picks up the song, singing off-key.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, pull in here.” Eddie says suddenly. Buck does as he’s told, turning the jeep sharply into the narrow parking lot, made narrower by a few tiny outdoor tables and a cluster of pedestrians gathered around a bright pink and orange taco truck.</p>
<p>“You know something about this taco truck I don’t? There are literally thousands of places to stop for dinner between here and home.”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Eddie says, hoping out of the jeep before Buck can say anything else. </p>
<p>Buck shrugs and follows; what else is he going to do. Eddie buys them both fish tacos and they sit at one of the tiny tables to eat.</p>
<p>“So, did you just have a sudden craving for random street tacos or something? Though these are pretty good.” Buck says. Eddie laughs around a mouthful of food and shakes his head. “Then what’s with the sudden stop?”</p>
<p>Eddie points over Buck’s shoulder to the building the parking lot’s intended for. “You’re not done entertaining me yet.” Eddie says with a broad smile.</p>
<p>Buck twists around to look. It’s a nice but unremarkable three-story building, with a handful of small closed-up shops along the first floor and big square windows across the two upper stories. Hanging over big double wooden doors and illuminated by oversized spotlights, a wooden sign proclaims it as <em>The Pacific Ballroom</em>.</p>
<p>Buck frowns. “Uh?”</p>
<p>“What, you don’t dance?” Eddie’s grin is wicked. </p>
<p>“I can dance. I have great moves. I just can’t <em>ballroom </em>dance.”</p>
<p>“Read the sandwich board, Buck. It’s salsa tonight.” Eddie shoves the rest of his taco in his mouth and stands up.</p>
<p>“Well I can’t do that either.” Buck hisses.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it. We’re in time for the beginners lesson.” Eddie shrugs, nonchalant, but he’s still grinning. “And I haven’t danced in years, not even around my living room, so I’ll be rusty, too.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s pretty sure he’d enjoy watching Eddie dance around his living room, rusty or no. Initially, he was resigned to the inevitability of this particular embarrassment, but now that he has that image in his head, there’s a small thrill to the idea. </p>
<p>Eddie’s smiling hopefully at him, and, well, Buck has tried to dig through forty feet of mud for that smile, so what’s a little salsa dancing. </p>
<p>Buck gets to his feet and follows Eddie inside, up the stairs. “You’re from Texas, shouldn’t you be into line dancing not salsa.”</p>
<p>“I've done that too. And I’ve been to enough <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Quinceaneras</span> I know my way around a Waltz.” Eddie says with a half shrug, still playing nonchalant, but his smile lights up his face the same way Chris’ does when he’s excited. </p>
<p>Eddie pays for their cover and they’re told by a pretty twenty-something that the beginner’s lesson is included and just starting. The ballroom is a little intimidating, a big ornate space with small tables draped in white tablecloths around the edge and an empty balcony, railing strung with lights. </p>
<p>Eddie nudges his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re pretty enough no one will care how good you are, as long as you don’t step on their feet.” </p>
<p>Buck almost trips over his own feet, because getting called pretty by Eddie makes his stomach swoop and throws him off balance. Eddie snickers as Buck stumbles, and it would sting if he weren’t still sporting that bright smile. </p>
<p>The instructor shows them the basic eight count step then pairs them up, leads and follows. The lesson goes well. They rotate partners throughout so by the end of it Buck’s made casual friends with most of the other newbies and is enjoying himself on his own behalf.</p>
<p>The ballroom fills as the lesson wraps up. Buck dances the first two songs with the young woman he ended the lesson paired with then a song with one of the other beginners. Buck steals glances in Eddie’s direction to catch the flash of his grin, or his blush, or just watch the way he moves. It’s a wonder he’s known Eddie this long and not known he’s a dancer, but now that he knows this, he’s going to find ways to use it shamelessly.</p>
<p>Eddie appears at his side as the next song starts and taps his wrist. “You up to try following?” </p>
<p>Buck’s initial thought is <em>I’ll literally follow you anywhere</em>, but that seems a bit much in response to Eddie asking him to dance, so he smiles and says sure. And if the smile is too big, too beaming, he can pass it off as due to the general atmosphere, not the result of the way Eddie’s eyes are sparkling and how that makes Buck’s insides squirm.</p>
<p>Eddie slides Buck’s hand into his. “It’s the same, only backwards.” </p>
<p>Buck snorts. “Because backwards sounds so easy.” Eddie chuckles.</p>
<p>“Trust me.” He says, placing his hand on Buck’s shoulder blade and pulling him into position. “Once you’ve got the basics, it’s not really about knowing steps. It’s about connection.”</p>
<p>Eddie pushes gently but purposefully against his hand, guides a little with the hand on his back, and he’s not wrong, because Buck steps back almost automatically with his right. He steps forwards again to Eddie’s pull against his back, still gentle and firm. </p>
<p>“See, we repel down cliffs and run into burning building together, we’ve already got this.” </p>
<p>Buck relaxes into the rhythm and starts to feel more confident with it, which lasts until Eddie spins him out into a turn. He loses the count and the steps, but then Eddie’s hand is back in its place on his shoulder blade and he resets them at one with chuckle and a grin. Buck grins back. Maybe it isn’t as graceful or as sexy as the people dancing around them, but Buck doesn’t care. It is, in fact, impossible not to feel great about the state of the world when Eddie’s smiling like that.</p>
<p>They dance through a few more songs, then take a break at one of the small tables. Buck wants to stretch this day out as long as possible. It’s damn near perfect. He can feel the happiness radiating off Eddie like it’s a physical warmth and it was the same at the beach, but it’s unusual. Not that Buck thinks Eddie’s unhappy, but he doesn’t often let himself shine with it, like happiness is fragile and he has to hold it carefully least it break. </p>
<p>Buck wants to reach over and hold his hand. It’s a simple little thought that’s been popping into his head uninvited all day. When Eddie teased him about being slow as they got out at the beach. When they stood on the bluffs and Eddie got quiet and still, taking in the view of the ocean. When they got back into the jeep and Eddie had looked at him like he’d done something more than drive up the highway and stop at public beach.</p>
<p>He doesn’t want to be in love with Eddie, doesn’t want to keep bruising his own heart when Eddie doesn’t feel the same. So he keeps his hands too himself, resting casually on the table, but he stretches out his legs so his knee knocks into Eddie’s and he tells himself it’s just because he has long legs and the tables are so small.</p>
<p>Eddie’s phone buzzes and he frowns, reading the caller ID. He ducks out into the quieter hall as he answers. Buck follows, and Eddie’s already tucking his phone back into his pocket when Buck joins him.</p>
<p>“I have to go pick Chris up. They’re ending camp early, to be safe. Concerns about the virus.” </p>
<hr/>
<p>Chimney’s first, as he flat out refuses to be in the same room as Maddie after they get their first COVID case on a call. Buck doesn’t think twice about offering Chim his couch until…well, until when isn’t clear, but they’ll figure it out. </p>
<p>Then schools are closed and Eddie’s scrambling to figure out who can stay with Chris while he’s working and how much exposure he can risk. He’s on the phone all day between calls playing musical houses with his family. Buck’s not sure of the details, only that it involves cousins who just moved from Texas and have been staying with Eddie’s abuela while they get settled and that Eddie can’t stand them (for reasons that shall not be discussed). So in the end, Abuela moves over to Eddie’s while the hated cousins stay at her house, and Eddie’s displaced not just from Chris but also from his home. So Buck tells him he’s welcome at the loft as long as he needs.</p>
<p>He extends the offer to Hen as well, but she considers the logistics of four people staying in Buck’s loft and shakes her head. The benefits of Michael’s full two bedroom, two bath condo outweigh any potential awkwardness from David also having just moved in. Buck’s privately greatful. He doesn’t mind sharing his space with his team, but realistically, it’s a loft. The only doors in the place are on the bathrooms and closets. </p>
<p>They work out logistics between calls. Chimney can leave his car at the station as Buck’s unit only has parking for two and street spots are rare. Chim claims the couch like he’s calling shotgun. Eddie apparently has an intense dislike for air mattress, so it’s decided that they’ll share the bed. They’ve shared before; it was never an issue. Buck pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that most recent time didn’t involve clothing or that he hasn’t figured out how to move on from being in love with Eddie yet.</p>
<p>But everything’s fine. They have a plan.</p>
<p>Of course, Buck should know better than to trust the universe. There are some shifts when the calls feel coordinated, like the universe is passing on a message, or at least indulging in a theme. </p>
<p>The first call of the day is a couple of newlyweds who’s new pandemic hobby went poorly and literally set the house on fire. It’s a minor fire and they get it out quickly, but the smoke damage won't make their lives in lockdown any easier. Then it’s a socially distanced, bike riding date that ends with a sprained ankle and one bicycle inexplicably lodged in the branches of a tree. They don’t ask about how that happened. Unironically, Love Hurts is blaring from one of the pairs cell when they arrive on the call.</p>
<p>Near the end of shift, they get a call for a teenager who’s fallen off the roof. She has a probable concussion and broken leg, but is relatively lucky considering. There’s a smashed cello on the ground too, and the girl’s clearly more upset about that then she is about her own injuries.</p>
<p>“My mom’s going to kill me. Cellos are so expensive.” She says as Hen and Chim look her over.</p>
<p>“You might consider that next time you decide to climb up onto a roof with one.” Hen says. </p>
<p>“It’s my girlfriends birthday and I wanted to do something special for her. We haven’t seen each other in ages.” </p>
<p>Said girlfriend and her worried parents are standing a distance off on the front porch and she has a nasty cut she got somehow in the commotion. Chim jogs over to patch her up too.</p>
<p>“I don’t play anything smaller.” The girl says as they load her onto the stretcher and wheel her over to the ambulance. “You think I should learn guitar?”</p>
<p>“Maybe try the ukulele.” Bobby says.</p>
<p>Buck hides his snicker behind his hand. Eddie knocks into his shoulder. “Love hurts, huh?” Eddie says.</p>
<p>Buck can’t help but chuckle, and Bobby shoots them a <em>be professional </em>look. “Yes, but you can’t help falling in love.” Buck says. Eddie grins, eyebrows arched.</p>
<p>“What are you two talking about?” Hen asks.</p>
<p>“Love songs.” Buck answers at the same time Eddie says, “Hopeless romantics.”</p>
<p>Hen gives them her <em>please-forget-I-asked</em> look.</p>
<p>“Hopeless? Come on, Eddie, you really telling me you don’t think there’s anything to love songs? There isn’t <em>one </em>that makes you hopeful?”</p>
<p>“I think Chris will be dating before I know it and that’s hard enough without being surround by songs that tell him love has to be a certain way, or <em>he </em>has to be a certain way to deserve it.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I worry about Denny sometimes, too. But they’re good kids. Chris will be fine, Eddie. They’ll figure out who they are for themselves. It’s part of growing up.” Hen says. “Assuming they don’t grow up to be as insufferable as Buck 1.0 was.”</p>
<p>“It was a phase.” Buck says, not stung by the teasing; he was insufferable back then.</p>
<p>“I hope Chris does grow up like Buck.”</p>
<p>Buck blames what he says next on the fact that Eddie, who’s protective and particular, considering him a role model for Chris is overwhelming on the tail end of a long, stressful shift. Or possibly it was inevitable.</p>
<p>“You’re kidding right? I literally snuck out of <em>your</em> bed in the middle of the night.”</p>
<p>Buck’s brain catches up with his mouth the second he says it, but it’s too late to take the words back. He and Eddie haven’t ever really talked themselves about what happened after the well. They just went back to their lives like it hadn’t been any more real than a dream and now he blurts it out in front of Hen and Bobby. The one saving grace is that Chim isn’t in earshot, so maybe it won't get back to Maddie.</p>
<p>Everyone is absolutely silent. Hen looks at Buck, eyes wide. Bobby glances between them. Buck stares at Eddie. His jaw is a tight line and he's staring back.</p>
<p>“Uh, man, that’s awkward.” Their patient says from inside the ambulance. </p>
<p>“No, I’m not kidding. The <em>only </em>thing wrong with you, is you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”</p>
<p>“Eddie…” Buck starts, not sure what else he’s going to say, but it doesn’t matter because Eddie’s already turned his back, climbing into the ambulance with their patient. Buck wonders if this, too, will be another one of those things they simply just never talk about again. Assuming, of course, Hen and Bobby don’t either.</p>
<p>Hen watches Eddie pull the ambulance doors closed then glances at Bobby. He nods and she walks around to the front with a last quick, unreadable look over her shoulder at Buck.</p>
<p>“Buck?” Bobby asks, making him jump. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Buck stares at him, wide-eyed. “What? Am <em>I</em> okay?”</p>
<p>His voice comes out high and sort of strangled, so probably that answers the question. He swallows and gets his voice back in the range of normal.</p>
<p>“Please forget I said that. Just don’t bring it up, okay?”</p>
<p>“Buck, I can’t—” Bobby starts as the ambulance pulls away.</p>
<p>“Please. It was stupid and—but we’re fine. Just—”</p>
<p>“Did the ambulance just leave without me?” Chimney asks, coming around the truck. He stops, a confused expression blooming on his face as he takes in the disappearing ambulance and looks on Buck’s and Bobby’s faces. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“Eddie’s riding with the patient to the hospital.” Bobby says. “Let’s get the truck loaded and back to the station.”</p>
<p>Chim makes a face but doesn’t say anything. The ride back to the station is tense. Buck can see the wheels turning in Chimney’s head, though thankfully he doesn’t ask any questions. Buck’s honestly not sure what he’d say if Chim did ask, or that he can even make his thoughts slow down enough to speak coherently.</p>
<p>“Buckley, let’s talk for a minute.” Bobby says when they pull into the station and climb out of the truck. “We can use my office.” </p>
<p>Chim stares at him, mouth slightly open, while Buck’s stomach drops. He doesn’t think he’s going to get fired over this—he didn’t steal the truck again, they weren’t on duty, and the department’s policies aren’t that strict—but there’s still something ominous about talking in Bobby’s office. </p>
<p>“Bobby, it’s not a big deal, I swear.” Buck says as soon as they’re in the office. </p>
<p>“Whoa, Buck, slow down. Sit down.” Bobby closes the door behind them. Buck drops into one of the chairs in front of the desk and Bobby takes the other. “You’re not in trouble. I’ll talk with Eddie too when he gets back. But I need to know what happened and when. Make sure we have a safe work environment, confirm no one got hurt or felt—”</p>
<p>“God, Bobby, it wasn’t like that.”</p>
<p>“Alright. With how closely you two work together, though…just tell me your perspective.”</p>
<p>“Bobby…Look it was just once, and I—it was a stupid mistake. But, it’s not a big deal. Everything’s fine. We can still work together. It was months ago and you didn’t notice anything, right?”</p>
<p>“Months ago.” Bobby repeats, surprised and then thoughtful. “When?”</p>
<p>“The night…that call…when…” </p>
<p>The thing is, Buck doesn’t talk about the well collapsing and trapping Eddie between rising water and forty feet of wet earth. Buck doesn’t <em>think </em>about it. It’s one of the worst moments in his life, alongside losing Chris in the tsunami and Doug taking Maddie. But nearly losing Eddie is still raw, even as he tries to convince Bobby it’s past, like a wound that hasn’t healed enough to scab and itch. He can taste the mud and feel it, thick as quicksand, under his hands. </p>
<p>Worry is etched all over Bobby’s face. Buck tries again, tries to say causally <em>oh, you know it was just that night we thought Eddie died, no big deal.</em> He doesn’t have to say it, though. He can see on Bobby’s face that he’s figured the timing out. </p>
<p>“Alright, you don’t need to explain. If there’s anything you want to talk about…” </p>
<p>Bobby trails off and waits a long time, but Buck can’t think of anything to say. Bobby exhales into the silence. </p>
<p>“My door’s always open, Buck. And I think you should talk to a counselor. I’m sorry, I should have suggested it after—”</p>
<p>“No. Bobby. Eddie will kill me if you make him see Frank again over this. I told you, we’re fine.” </p>
<p>Bobby’s quiet for a beat, two, watching Buck’s face intently, and Buck fidgets under the gaze. “I meant you, Buck. Don’t worry about what Eddie will say or do for a minute. I think <em>you </em>should see someone. I know last time didn’t—”</p>
<p>“I am.” Buck blurts, because his mouth really isn’t connected to his brain today. It’s still new; he hasn’t told anyone yet and hadn’t even meant to tell Bobby first.</p>
<p>“You are?”</p>
<p>“Someone outside of the department. And it’s only been a few sessions so far. I don’t know if I’m gonna keep going.” </p>
<p>“Good. I’m proud of you, Buck. And my door is always open, for anything.” </p>
<p>“Sure Bobby. Thanks.” </p>
<p>Thankfully, the shift finishes quietly. Buck’s head really isn’t on the job. Instead he’s standing in the loft, trying to be subtle about how he’s watching for the ambulance to come back, but their shift ends before it does. Buck lingers as long as he can in the locker room, however he’s Chimney’s ride and doesn’t want to try to explain why he’s so reluctant to go. </p>
<p>It’s late when Eddie finally gets back to the loft. He let’s himself in and Buck’s eyes shoot to the door, chest tight. Chimney looks up, too, then gives Buck a confused, questioning glance.</p>
<p>“Uh, Chim, can you give me and Eddie a few minutes?”</p>
<p>“Sure, I’ll just…go for a walk around the block a few times.” He shakes his head but goes.</p>
<p>Eddie walks over to the sink to wash his hands, not even glancing in Buck’s direction. Buck follows him into the kitchen, stopping across the island from him. His back is ramrod straight and it’s as if he’s erected a wall around himself with <em>don’t-talk-to-me</em> vibes, but if Buck was any good at keeping his mouth shut, they wouldn’t be in this mess.</p>
<p>“Look, Eddie, I…” Eddie’s shoulders sag and he turns off the sink but doesn’t turn. “Eddie?”</p>
<p>“What?” Eddie wheels around. “What?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry—”</p>
<p>Eddie shakes his head, but Buck plows on. He has to convince Eddie he means it, that he’s worth keeping.</p>
<p>“No. I am. I shouldn’t have….and I…uh…I basically outed you at work today, which—”</p>
<p>“I don’t care. I—”</p>
<p>“So I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean to. And I didn’t mean…I do dumb, reckless things when…I thought you <em>died</em>. And I freaked out. And I just needed to do something. Like I had to prove to myself you were okay. I was so wound up and in my head. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to do that to you.”</p>
<p>“<em>To </em>me.” Eddie’s voice is dry.</p>
<p>“<em>With</em> you. Shit, you’re giving me a hard time about semantics right now.” </p>
<p>Eddie’s expression is somewhere on the spectrum between frustrated at Chris for leaving his Legos on the floor for the <em>fourth time this week</em> and pissed at the jerk who keeps illegally parking in the only handicap spot at the library that’s big enough for Eddie’s truck.</p>
<p>And Buck’s own frustration is starting to match, at himself, mostly, and at the way Eddie doesn’t want to talk, defenses up .</p>
<p>“Look. I’m sorry. For today, for that night, for the shitty way I left in the morning. For every reckless, careless mistake—”</p>
<p>Eddie’s mouth shuts with an audible snap. Buck’s never seen the expression on his face and can’t begin to read it. He feels suddenly knocked off balance, like someone took the loft and tilted it thirty degrees, and he instinctively presses a hand to the island for balance, even though it’s all in his head.</p>
<p>“—I’m sorry for all of it.” He finishes at about half the volume as before; he hadn’t meant to be shouting.</p>
<p>Eddie’s eyes lock on his. The strange expression is still on his face, and his breathing is quick and shallow. </p>
<p>“It’s fine, Buck. You’re forgiven. For everything you regret.” </p>
<p>Buck’s heart seizes. He wishes he could change a lot, about himself, how he handles things sometimes and definitely about how he handled that night, but he still doesn’t <em>regret </em>it, exactly. The memories of kissing Eddie, of how Eddie’s body fit with his, of Eddie whispering his name as he came, are not memories Buck knows how to regret.</p>
<p>“Eddie—”</p>
<p>“I said it’s fine. We’re past it already. I need to shower off the hospital. And I’m still not sleeping on your stupid air mattress.” </p>
<p>Eddie walks past him up to the loft, leaving Buck feeling like he’s sliding down a cliff.</p>
<p>Buck listens to the shower turn on upstairs and goes to set up the air mattress, for himself if not for Eddie. Chimney comes back as Buck is trying to fit the bottom sheet on.</p>
<p>“Everything okay, man? ‘Cause you look like it’s war with that sheet and I hate to say it, but the sheet may be winning.” Chim says. </p>
<p>Buck huffs. “Yeah, bad day is all. Trust me, you don’t want to be involved.” </p>
<p>Chim nods and helps Buck finish setting up the air mattress, at which point Buck realizes he’s going to need to go upstairs and grab his pillow. </p>
<p>The sound of the shower stopped several minutes ago. Eddie’s already in bed when Buck climbs up the stairs, lying on his back with his eyes closed.</p>
<p>“Eddie?” </p>
<p>“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s okay?” Eddie says without opening his eyes.</p>
<p>“I was just going to grab my pillow.” Buck mumbles, reaching over to grab it.</p>
<p>Eddie’s eyes snap open and he sits up. “Buck, don’t. I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I can’t go home. I can’t hug my kid. I can’t be mad at you, too. I don’t have the energy.” </p>
<p>“I slept on that air mattress for months. I’m fine. You’re not putting me out.”</p>
<p>“Buck.” Eddie says and falls quiet. </p>
<p>Buck fidgets with the edge of the pillowcase and waits, but whatever else Eddie might have intended to say, he doesn’t. He drops back down heavily and rolls onto his side, back to Buck. But he doesn’t seem tense or walled off; he just seems tired.</p>
<p>Buck stands in the dimly lit loft, pillow twisted in his hands, watching Eddie’s back rise and fall with his breathing, for an absurdly long time. He loses track of it—it’s probably less than a couple minutes, it feels like a lifetime—as his thoughts chase each other around in his head. He’s never felt so much like he doesn’t know what Eddie’s thinking. It makes the distance between them feel huge, and he’s scared if he turns around now, it’ll stay that way. </p>
<p>He sets his pillow back on the bed and climbs in, alert for any sign from Eddie that it’s another mistake. Eddie’s breathing is slow and measured, to deliberate to be sleep, but he doesn’t say anything or draw away. Buck shifts restlessly for a while in an attempt to get comfortable, but it’s probably a losing battle with Eddie simultaneously so close and far away. He ends up on his back with his hands folded loosely on his stomach, in some odd compromise between taking up as little space as possible and sprawling across the bed like he usually does. The third option of cuddling up against Eddie’s back is not one he lets himself entertain for more than a second.</p>
<p>He’s still wide awake and uncomfortable twenty minutes later when Eddie rolls over, brushing up against his arm. He jolts and tenses. For a moment, Buck thinks Eddie’s asleep, then Eddie reaches out and entangles his arm with Buck’s, fingers curled loosely around his bicep. </p>
<p>“Buck. Just go to sleep. It’s fine.” </p>
<p>Buck resettles, twisting a little so he can face Eddie without dislodging his hand from his arm. All he can think about is after the lawsuit, when he said <em>I’m sorry</em> and Eddie said <em>I’m fine</em> and only half that equation was true. </p>
<p>He waits until he’s pretty sure Eddie’s asleep, and whispers under his breath just in case, “I’m here and I am sorry. Just tell me where you are.” </p>
<hr/>
<p>“I can’t. I don’t understand.” Chris says for what is at least the third time in the forty or so minutes they’ve been talking. The video jolts a little like he pushed at the laptop and Eddie doesn’t blame him. If it weren’t his only connection to life outside of work and lockdown, Eddie’d throw the tablet across the room himself, or drop it over the loft railing.</p>
<p>“You can. Chris, you know this stuff. Remember—”</p>
<p>“When are you coming home?” Chris demands. The hint of accusation in his tone lodges in Eddie chest like a knife.</p>
<p>His whole being protests the fact he’s starting to count the time since he last hugged his son in months, and there’s no comfort in the knowledge that he once considered that normal. He remembers it being easier. He missed most of the first half of Chris’ life, thought himself lucky if he saw Shannon and Chris on the other end of a screen once a week, and now he talks to Chris at least twice a day. There’s no ten hour time difference to deal with, no slow, spotty connection. And still it is so much worse.</p>
<p>“I don’t know bud. As soon as I can. But we have to be safe. You know I miss you. Very much.”</p>
<p>“So come home.” Chris shoves the laptop again, harder this time so the video blurs before the camera can refocus on his face, drawn into a pout.</p>
<p>“Chris—”</p>
<p>“No! This is stupid. I don’t want to talk to you like this anymore.”</p>
<p>Before Eddie can say anything else, Chris slams the laptop closed and Eddie’s left staring at the blank screen. “Love you.” he says, despite the fact that Chris can’t hear it, and sets the tablet on the bedside table.</p>
<p>“You okay?” Buck asks.</p>
<p>Eddie turns to look over his shoulder at him. He’s standing a couple steps down from the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing, with an air of hesitancy about him, like he’s ready to retreat back downstairs if Eddie so much as hints at it. But being alone, even in only the semi-privacy of the loft, is the last thing Eddie wants. He shakes he head, sliding his hand out across the bedspread, and Buck instantly comes up the last couple steps.</p>
<p>“I caught the end of that. Sounded rough.” Buck says.</p>
<p>Eddie flops back on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. The mattress shifts as Buck sits next to him. </p>
<p>“It isn’t forever.” Buck says.</p>
<p>“It isn’t supposed to be at all. I promised him when I got back, after Shannon left, that I wouldn’t leave him again. God, I hate this.”</p>
<p>“Eddie, you didn’t leave.” Buck says, hand coming to rest on his shoulder, thumb brushing his collarbone. Buck digs strong fingers into his tense shoulder muscles and Eddie sighs, dropping his hands from his eyes. </p>
<p>“I know that. My brain knows that but…” </p>
<p>Buck hums in sympathy and pulls his phone out of his pocket, swiping at the screen one handed. Eddie raises his eyebrows but Buck doesn’t give him any indication what he’s doing until music pours out of the speakers. Eddie feels his eyebrows climb further in surprise. </p>
<p>Buck grins, hand trailing down Eddie’s arm and making him shiver. He gets up again and tugs Eddie’s hand, pulling him to his feet with enough strength that Eddie crashes into his chest. Eddie’s arm hooks around Buck’s waist by reflex to steady himself.</p>
<p>“Salsa?” Eddie asks, feigning casual as the music blares from Buck’s phone speakers. He can feel as much as hear Buck’s soft chuckle.</p>
<p>“You look like you could use a distraction.” Buck says. “And considering everything, I haven’t gotten more than the one lesson. But it was fun.” </p>
<p>Eddie slides his hand up to Buck’s back, enjoying the feel of the strong muscle under his hand. He shifts them into close position for dancing, and if they’re a little closer than typical, Buck doesn’t know any better. </p>
<p>Buck’s grin is bright as he follows Eddie’s lead. Eddie can feel his himself ease into it, his thoughts, his worry and guilt, dissolving with the rhythm and the movement. He meant it when he told Buck he was rusty; he hasn’t danced much since before he joined the army, but it still feels familiar, engrained in his heart more than his muscles.</p>
<p>“I think he does understand. Chirs is pretty sharp.” Buck says.</p>
<p>“He’s nine and he’s had his world pulled out from under him. <em>Again.”</em></p>
<p><em>“</em>But he knows it’s not <em>your</em> fault, Eds. He just needs time to adjust and maybe to vent a little. Like all of us.”</p>
<p>Eddie snorts. “He needs a parent who’s <em>there</em>. You don’t understand. You’re not one.” It’s a blow he doesn’t mean to throw, and Buck stiffens for a moment in his arms. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, but Buck speaks first.</p>
<p>“You consider maybe he needs someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t his dad. Or Abuela or Carla or me.” </p>
<p>“You mean someone who’s a professional.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I know it’s not really your thing, but it helped after Shannon and the tsunami, didn’t it? And this isn’t the same, but it’s not <em>not </em>scary and traumatic either.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s instinct is to push the idea aside, but it’s not an instinct he trusts. They keep dancing. Buck’s hand is warm and comfortable in his, and the tips of his fingers graze Eddie’s skin over the collar of his shirt.</p>
<p>“I started seeing someone.” Buck says. </p>
<p>Eddie’s heart jumps. “Congrats?”</p>
<p>Buck laughs. “No, a therapist. Professionally. But…” His tone’s hesitant and he trails off. There’s an uncertain, hopeful look on his face. Eddie stills.</p>
<p>“That’s good. Right?”</p>
<p>Buck’s expression eases. He glances down and smiles self-consciously. “Yeah. Yes. It’s good.” </p>
<p>“Okay. Good.”</p>
<p>Buck’s sheepish smile turns into a brazen grin. “Which is kinda my point.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I know. And I’ll make a call.” Eddie pushes him into a turn, picking up the dance again. “Sorry, I snapped at you.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you should also consider—”</p>
<p>“Nope.” Eddie says. Buck rolls his eyes, chuckling. </p>
<p>“I’m just saying, you seem really stressed and tense.” Buck drums his fingers over hard knot of his shoulder to prove his point.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, maybe I need a masseuse not a therapist. If only one could do that virtually.” </p>
<p>Buck’s chuckle turns into a full throated laugh. “Somehow I can’t picture you treating yourself to a professional massage even when we’re not in the middle of lockdown. Or is that your subtle way of asking for a back rub?” There’s color in his cheeks as he says it. </p>
<p>Eddie’s imagination provides him with the image, strong enough he can feel Buck’s hands. His stomach twists and he’s too warm. “You offering?” He says before he can stop himself.</p>
<p>Buck’s blush burns redder and he swipes his tongue across his lips. Eddie swallows. Except Buck takes care of everyone, and flirts just as freely, and Eddie has no reason to read anything else into it. Or maybe Buck’s stressed too and just looking for a release of his own. But Buck was pretty damn clear, multiple times, what he thought of them hooking up, and Eddie wont open himself up to going through that again.</p>
<p>“Chimney back from that med call yet?” Eddie says instead. </p>
<p>“No, he texted. They’re still stuck at the hospital. Why, you have something you want to do while Chim’s not around?” His tone’s more casual than flirtatious, and Eddie pushes aside the uncomfortable mix of relief and disappointment that elicits. </p>
<p>“Actually, I was thinking dinner.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I see how it is. Distract and entertain you, cook you dinner, I just have to do everything around here.” </p>
<p>“Hey now, no, we have a system. You cook. I clean up. Chim gets everything done for him for free.”</p>
<p>Buck laughs again and that, more than anything else, makes Eddie feel like he’s not messing everything up completely. </p>
<p>The door opens downstairs and Chimney calls hello. They still. Buck waggles his eyebrows. “Guess I need to go make dinner.” He flashes Eddie another bright smile then steps away and bounds down the stairs.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Eddie hasn't slept in 24 hours, and while he's done it before, in the army and on the occasional nonstop longer shift, it's never ideal. Add to that an emotional exhaustion that makes him feel like his insides are made out of lead and he's in pretty rough shape. He closes his locker and let’s his forehead rest against the cool metal. He tells himself it’ll just be for a few seconds, counts to three, five, but by nine he still hasn’t mustered the will to straighten, gather his things, go home, so he stops counting.</p>
<p>“Hey, #Firefox followed—Eds?” Buck says.</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Eddie leverages himself up, and Buck’s already crossing the locker room, a line of concern between his brows. His hand comes up to Eddie’s side, curling around his waist like he’s going to pull him into a hug, but he pauses. “Something happen at your parents’ after Hen and I ducked out?” </p>
<p>“Just tired. I didn’t sleep much on the drive back.” </p>
<p>“I noticed.” Buck says.</p>
<p>“How? You were conked out and drooling the second we left El Paso.” </p>
<p>“Just shut up and let me drive you home.” Buck reaches over with his free hand to take Eddie’s truck keys out of his hand then steps to the side. The hand that’s still on Eddie's waist slides around to his lower back and gives him a gentle push forward. </p>
<p>“Eddie, have a minute?” Bobby calls as they walk out of the locker room. Eddie hadn’t even realized Bobby was on shift when they got back. Buck steps back.</p>
<p>“Sure Cap.” Eddie says and glances at Buck. “Go ahead, go home. You don’t have to wait for me.” </p>
<p>Buck shakes his head. “I don’t mind.” He settles down onto the bench in the locker room like he hasn’t spent the last several days working hard and sleeping on uncomfortable cots or in the truck.</p>
<p>Eddie climbs up to the loft, feeling Bobby’s gaze on him as he does and trying not to look as tired as he feels. He doesn’t think he’s fooling Bobby, though little does. The loft is mostly empty and Bobby waves him into a seat at the table.</p>
<p>“Everything alright, Cap?” Eddie says. There’s a prickle of unease under his skin that’s only mostly dispelled by Bobby’s calm demeanor.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Just wanted to check-in. How was Texas?”</p>
<p>“It was good, Captain. I think we helped.”</p>
<p>Bobby smiles. “Captain Strand called and had nothing but praise for the job you all did.” </p>
<p>Eddie nods and waits, knowing Bobby must be going somewhere else with this one-on-one chat. If he just wanted to pass on Captain Strand’s compliments he would have done it with the whole group of them there.</p>
<p>“And you stopped by your parents’ place on the way home?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t flinch, but it’s close. He nods again. “Yeah. For dinner.” </p>
<p>Bobby lets out a little sigh, like he knows how much more there is that Eddie isn’t saying. “You know, everything going on these days, it gets people thinking, maybe reevaluating things, life and family. So I wanted to check-in. See how you are. And if there’s anything you want to talk about, my door’s open.”</p>
<p>Eddie frowns. “Bobby?”</p>
<p>“You haven’t said anything, but I figured a trip home might…bring some things up.”</p>
<p>Eddie swallows and his heart is racing. “You want to know if I’m thinking about transferring?” </p>
<p>“I just want to know if you want to talk. There are good firehouses in Texas, too. And if you were considering it, any house would be lucky to have you.” </p>
<p>Eddie shakes his head, heart still pounding. “I’m not. I don’t want to transfer.” It’s as true for him now as it was after Shannon died, but…but it's also not about what he wants. He shakes his head again.</p>
<p>Bobby’s expression is considering. “But?” Eddie chuckles dryly.</p>
<p>“No but. I really don’t want a transfer. Thanks for the chat, though.” He makes a move to stand up.</p>
<p>“Eddie.” </p>
<p>And settles back down.</p>
<p>“Everything else going alright? Things good with Chris? Virtual school was a big adjustment for Harry; I’m not sure how it would have gone without Athena home for so long, and with Michael able to work from home.” </p>
<p>Bobby’s more observant than people give him credit for. It’s impressive and a little intimidating.</p>
<p>“We’re managing.” Eddie says.</p>
<p>“You always do.” Bobby looks over towards the station floor then back at Eddie. “I know you have everything handled, but if you need anything, just remember my door’s open, or my table as the case may be. And consider, while you’re managing, you deserve a life that makes you happy, too.”</p>
<p>Eddie squirms in his chair, lips twisting. “Cap…” He trails off, thoughts tripping him up like an obstacle course in his mind.</p>
<p>“Okay, you can head out. I know it was a long trip. You look tired and your ride’s waiting.” </p>
<p>Eddie nods again and treks back down the stairs. Buck jumps to his feet and grabs Eddie’s bag off the bench. “Ready to go? Do we need to pick Chris up from your abuela’s?”</p>
<p>“Tomorrow morning. Seemed safer.” Picking Chris up in the morning gives Eddie time to shower and do all his laundry, but he’s tired of all the reasons to be apart from Chris, as important as they are.</p>
<p>“Makes sense.” Buck says, twirling Eddie’s truck keys on his finger. He looks bright eyed and chipper, which just isn’t reasonable after more than twenty hours on the road.</p>
<p>Eddie’s truck is parked next to Buck’s jeep, but it’s clear he intends to take the truck as he tosses both their bags into the back.</p>
<p>“You really don’t have to drive me home.” Eddie says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, and I’m sure whoever’s on shift will enjoy responding to the call when you get into an accident because you’re too tired to even stand up straight.” Eddie, slumped against the back of the truck, doesn’t have an argument for that. “I’ll just take an Uber back later.”</p>
<p>Buck climbs into the driver’s seat, scooting it back, adjusting the mirrors, and effectively ending any further discussion. Eddie hauls himself up to the passenger seat and leans his head against the headrest.</p>
<p>It’s a slow drive home, LA traffic only mildly improved by the pandemic. Eddie still can’t sleep, can’t relax his muscles or quiet his thoughts. Buck turns on the radio, volume low, and hums along to it, mostly off-key. Eddie smiles, closes his eyes and just listens.</p>
<p>The house feels stuffy after several days closed up and unused. Eddie considers dropping immediately onto the couch, but if he does that he’s not getting back up, so he leans against the wall instead, watching as Buck goes around to open a few windows, still humming under his breath.</p>
<p>“Did you say <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Marwani</span> followed you back?”</p>
<p>“Eddie, why haven’t you gone to bed? You’re asleep on your feet, man.”</p>
<p>Eddie doesn’t have an answer for that, except that he doesn’t want to be alone, with just his thoughts, so he repeats his question.</p>
<p>“Yes, she followed me back.” Buck’s grin is an endearing mix of bashful and self-satisfied.</p>
<p>He walks over and leans against the wall near Eddie. His eyes rake over Eddie’s face, searching. Eddie’s not sure what he finds there, but he takes Eddie’s arm and pulls. Eddie goes as willingly as his tired body will allow, and finds himself guided to the bathroom.</p>
<p>“Strip,” Buck orders and then flushes. “What I mean is, if you get in the shower, I’ll load your clothes into the laundry.”</p>
<p>Eddie laughs. He’s tired enough to feel a little tipsy. “Sure, because those two phrases are generally taken to mean the exact same thing.”</p>
<p>“Do you always tease people who offer to do your laundry? That seems like a good way not to get your laundry done.”</p>
<p>Eddie tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it at Buck, who flushes redder as he catches it. “I’m pretty sure I’m safe. My teasing hasn’t dissuaded you from anything yet and it’s been years.”</p>
<p>Most days, he’s content with things as they are, the ordinary rhythms of their life and the comfortable familiarity of their partnership. But other days, days like today, when he feels like he can’t keep his head above the water, when he’s so tired he wants someone to lean into and so anxious he wants someone to shut off his brain, he misses having something more physical too.</p>
<p>So he keeps his eyes on Buck’s face as he thumbs open the button on his pants, watches the flush spread down his neck, watches his lips part slightly. His eyes don’t stay on Eddie’s face. They graze down his chest, swoop along the V of his abs, flick to his crotch, then he takes a deep breath and looks away. He drops Eddie’s shirt on the counter.</p>
<p>“Leave ‘em out and I’ll come back to grab ‘em. And I’m going to make us something to eat, so take your time. Just don’t pass out in there. I don’t want to have to save you from drowning in your own shower.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but don’t you want to be able to tell Hen and Chim that story?” Eddie says. Buck smiles, rolling his eyes, and walks away.</p>
<p>After the shower, Eddie changes into sweats and an old t-shirt, worn soft and thin, clothing to encourage his body to relax and his mind to settle. As promised, Buck has food ready for him in the kitchen. It’s nothing fancy, a salad, a slice of toast, and half an apple. Buck’s finishing the other half as Eddie comes in, and he hands Eddie a cup of tea, too.</p>
<p>Buck showers while Eddie eats and he hears the laundry starting just as he drains the last of his tea. He contemplates taking his dishes to the sink, but doesn’t get any further than the thought before Buck’s hand is on his shoulder. He trails his fingers along Eddie’s shoulder and down his arm as he pulls another chair closer to sit next to him. </p>
<p>The move seems absent minded, and it catches Eddie’s attention. Sure, they’ve always been comfortable in each other’s spaces, personal boundaries soft and indistinct from the beginning, but the months living together morphed that comfort into something even more habitual. Eddie’s happy to be home again and with Chris again, but he’s also been feeling the emptiness of spaces Buck had occupied—talking about the highs and lows of their last shift on the drive home, standing beside him in the kitchen, Buck waiting to dry the dishes Eddie washes while humming quietly or chatting with Chim so Eddie doesn’t feel pressure to talk, a solid, warm presence in bed beside him that Eddie hasn’t had in years. </p>
<p>Buck makes a quiet noise under his breath, like he’s just decided something, and leans forward. “Remember, it comes from a place of love.” </p>
<p>Eddie jerks. “What?”</p>
<p>“Whatever your parents said. Remember, it comes from a place of love.” </p>
<p>Eddie sighs and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees so he can drop his head into his hands. Buck curls his fingers around Eddie’s elbows, the weight of his hands grounding. </p>
<p>“I’m pretty out of it, but I think you’re giving me my own advice.” Eddie says.</p>
<p>“It was good advice. Chris?”</p>
<p>It’s an easy guess, because nothing in the world matters more to Eddie than Chris, and subsequently, nothing gets under his skin like an issue regarding Chris. So anyone could make that guess. What gets to Eddie and lodges under his sternum like a nail, is the way Buck has drawn him into not just talking about it, but <em>wanting </em>to talk about it.</p>
<p>“Nothing new, really.” Eddie says into his palms. Buck’s hands slid up to a firm grip just above his elbows, thumbs stroking back and forth.</p>
<p>“This still about you moving back to El Paso?” </p>
<p>Eddie huffs. “Less about me moving back to El Paso and more about Chris moving in with them in El Paso. Until things are better.” </p>
<p>Buck makes a noise of dismay not unlike the one Eddie made when his mom suggested it. His fingers clench but he loosens his hold a moment latter, thumbs resuming their idle movement.</p>
<p>“So, place of love, yes. I never doubt how much they love Chris.” </p>
<p>They’re different people for Chris than they were for him, like Chris at six saying they never yell after they reamed Eddie for doing his best. Eddie doesn’t <em>want</em> to begrudge the fact that Chris has grandparents who adore him, but sometimes the feeling creeps in. And Eddie always feels worse for letting in.</p>
<p>“Eddie?”</p>
<p>Eddie jerks back, chair scraping a little over the kitchen floor with the force of it, and Buck pulls back too, hands falling into his own lap, giving Eddie space he doesn’t really want.</p>
<p>“I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m good.” </p>
<p>“Fine, huh? Eddie, your parents are hundreds of miles away again, you—” Buck cuts himself off and frowns, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. “Are you considering it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Maybe.”</p>
<p>“Eddie. You can’t seriously be thinking about it.” Buck’s tone is pure disbelief and there’s a look of betrayal on his face.</p>
<p>Most of the time it’s good, amazing, to know how much Buck loves Chris, to see him act on that love again and again, when he doesn’t have to. But sometimes, it gets under Eddie’s skin, because Eddie is Chris’ father and at the end of the day it’ll still be all on him, alone.</p>
<p>“I’m thinking about what’s best. For Chris. That’s my job.” Eddie’s tone comes out harder than he intended. Buck looks down and away, and starts to speak. Eddie doesn’t give him a chance.</p>
<p>“I got so used to having Carla.” He explains. Carla had been a miracle, but now that she’s unavailable, looking after clients in more need than Eddie and Chris, relying on her in the first place feels like he failed somehow.</p>
<p>“And every time I drop him off or pick him up from Abuela’s…It was hard on her before and now it’s this extra risk, but it’s not like I can just stop working for months. I need the paycheck even if I was okay with leaving you down a man in this mess. You have no idea.”</p>
<p>“Eddie—”</p>
<p>“He’s struggling with remote school and he hates the isolation. I can see it, but I can’t do anything about it. He has regular sessions with the therapist but it’s not…So yeah, maybe El Paso with both my parents home all day, and his cousins around…maybe that’s better. Maybe I can’t—”</p>
<p>“Whoa, Eddie, just slow down for a second.” </p>
<p>At some point during Eddie’s rant, Buck had scooted forward again, closer, knees interlocked with his. His hand drops to Eddie’s thigh to get his attention. It’s probably also meant to be comforting, like a moment ago, but it feels more like a brand.</p>
<p>Eddie grabs Buck’s wrist, not sure if he’s trying to pull him closer or push his hand away, such that he ends up just holding on, fingers pressing into his pale skin hard enough it goes white, but Buck doesn’t try to pull away. </p>
<p>Eddie has the irrational impulse to lean over and kiss him, crawl onto his lap, fuck him on the kitchen floor and burry his thoughts under those sensations. It’s an unhelpful, aggressive thought, and he’s coherent enough to realize he’d have to live with himself after. He loosens his grip on Buck’s wrist.</p>
<p>“Sorry. That wasn’t really meant for you.” Eddie says.</p>
<p>Buck gives a short, dry laugh and half a smile. “I figured. And I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying…you always try to do what’s best for Chris and I…I didn’t mean to overstep.”</p>
<p>Guilt wells up in Eddie, a monster wrapping slick tentacles around his heart and lungs, throat and tongue. It takes him a few tries to swallow, take a breath, and get words out. “You didn’t.” </p>
<p>Buck nods, but he doesn’t look convinced, the corners of his mouth turned down, eyes not meeting Eddie’s. Buck carries self-doubt as heavily as Eddie carries guilt.</p>
<p>“Buck—”</p>
<p>“I could help more. Maybe switch shifts at work and I can stay with Chris when—”</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em> <em>no</em>.” </p>
<p>The exclamation, hot and fierce, is out of Eddie’s mouth before even his mind’s finished processing Buck’s words. Buck’s eyes snap up to meet his, and there’s a surprised, hurt look on his face like Eddie just slid a knife between his ribs. A look that he desperately tries to smooth into something else as Eddie watches.</p>
<p>“Jesus. No. I didn’t mean—I’d <em>always</em> rather Chris stay with you then my parents, or anyone. But you are not switching shifts on me. I—” <em>I don’t want to be out there without you watching my back. I don’t know how to be here while you’re out without me watching yours. We make each other better at the job. </em>“I appreciate it, but you are <em>not </em>switching shifts on me.” </p>
<p>Buck’s expression settles into something Eddie can’t read. “Okay.” </p>
<p>He runs his free hand, the one Eddie doesn’t have a renewed death grip on, through his hair. It makes the it stick out at messy angels, still damp from the shower. Eddie’s impulse to smooth it out with his own fingers is a gentle whisper, miles away from his earlier impulse, and he considers it. Considers carding his fingers through the quarantine long strands, grazing over the shell of his ear, cupping his face to pull him close, to press their foreheads together and say <em>thank you. Thank you for loving us.</em></p>
<p>Buck’s voice, low and soft, drags him out of it. “You know the way they talked about you. Your parents. They love you, too. And I…I think they’re proud of you. Even though they’re terrible at showing you. That’s on them, not you. It’s not because you’re not someone to be proud of.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s heart stutters and the breath he pulls in past parted lips is jagged. He wants to flinch away from the earnestness on Buck’s face and the way his gaze pours into Eddie, illuminating the cracks he’s long kept out of the light.</p>
<p>Buck twists his hand in Eddie’s hold and grips his wrist in turn, standing and pulling Eddie to his feet into a hug. </p>
<p>“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” Buck says and laughs lightly against Eddie’s neck. “Again I mean, let’s get you to sleep. Because you’re not going to make any major life decisions until you get a good, solid eight hours or more.”</p>
<p>Despite Buck’s edict about not making major decisions while he’s this tired, he already knows he not sending Chris off back to El Paso, or transferring. They have too much keeping them here. He just needed time to get there in his head.</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Eddie says.</p>
<p>Buck steps away, shrugging off the words and steering Eddie over towards the hall. Buck follows him into his room, but hovers a slight distance away when Eddie flops onto the bed. The washing machine dings. </p>
<p>Eddie turns on his side and watches Buck move away towards the door. He wants—</p>
<p>“Buck?” He wants not to be alone with his thoughts and fears and the feeling that he’s still not doing enough. “Stay?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” </p>
<p>Buck climbs onto the bed beside him, turning onto his side too when Eddie rolls over. Buck’s quiet as Eddie slots himself against his back and breathes into his neck, and he holds onto Eddie’s arm where he wraps it snug across Buck’s stomach.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sitting in the jeep outside of Maddie and Chimney’s place, Buck texts Eddie. The plastic wrapped postcards Maddie gave him sit on the passenger seat beside him. </p>
<p>
  <em>I’m just leaving Maddie’s. Can I come over? </em>
</p>
<p>If it were earlier, he wouldn’t ask, since it’s Eddie’s and he stopped asking permission long ago, but it’s around Chris’ bedtime, so he checks first. It takes Eddie a while to answer, and Buck’s resigning himself to heading back to the loft when his phone dings.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sure, come over. I’m glad you talked to her. You ok?</em>
</p>
<p><em>On my way.</em> Buck shoots back quickly, avoiding the question.</p>
<p>The drive’s quick, with little traffic and all the lights timed just right, like the universe is offering an apology for the hellish week Buck’s had. He lets himself in, as Eddie’s expecting him. The living room is dark, only the hall lights on and the door to Chris’ room closed. </p>
<p>“Kitchen,” Eddie calls out.</p>
<p>He’s leaning back against the sink when Buck come in, sleeves rolled up and a damp spot on his shirt. The hum of the refrigerator seems loud in the otherwise quiet house. Eddie smiles, head cocked slightly, when Buck stops just inside the doorway.</p>
<p>“Want a drink or something?” Eddie asks.</p>
<p>Buck shakes his head and Eddie’s smile falters. He straightens, a crease between his brows and all pretense of casual hang-out gone.</p>
<p>“Hey, you okay?” </p>
<p>“My parents made Maddie this box.” The words come out of his mouth of their own accord, and Buck has no idea why that’s what he’s starting with. Eddie freezes, frown deepening in confusion. “You know, for photos and baby clothes and such. With her name on it. They never made me a box, but Maddie saved these.” He drops the postcards on the table, spread out in a mess of colors and snapshots.</p>
<p>“I have a box under the bed, nothing fancy, never even put Chris’ name on it, but it has the same things in it. And a photo album in the earthquake kit, just in case. Can I?” Eddie picks up a postcard gingerly, like it’s precious and not something that probably cost Buck a quarter at a gas station.</p>
<p>Eddie’s eyes don’t leave Buck’s until he nods. “Sure, go ahead.”</p>
<p>Eddie turns it over, still handling it gently, to read the message on the other side. There’s a bright orange photo of a Florida beach sunset on the back and Buck’s stomach lurches like riding the drop on a rollercoaster. The memory of driving up and down the state framing houses is strong enough he can feel the worn fabric of the jeep’s seat cover against his skin and smell the sawdust. He went there trying to get over a girl. His breath catches and Eddie’s gaze flicks up to his before he sets the Florida postcard down and picks up another one.</p>
<p>A sunny San Diego beach, all blue sky and blue ocean, with a palm tree in one corner. <em>I’m gonna try and become a Navy SEAL. We know how much I like the ocean. I think Mom and Dad would be proud. </em>Eddie’s eyebrows arch as he reads. Buck had loved San Diego—sun and sand, the sound of the ocean. But he’d left the second he’d realized he’d never make it as a SEAL. Drove northeast out of California, thinking he could run from the failure and heartbreak of not being what they wanted. Spent several days hiking the Mojave and a couple weeks working temp jobs in Los Vegas before driving straight through Utah and Idaho until he ended up at the ranch in Montana. </p>
<p>Eddie picks up another. Buck gets a flash of a rocky Oregon coastline as he turns it over in his fingers. There’s another heartbreak in the empty spaces between what he wrote to Maddie, a guy who’s name Buck can’t remember, but he went all the way to Peru to move on.</p>
<p>“Wait.” It comes out strangled. </p>
<p>Eddie’s head snaps up. He sets the postcard down and curls his fingers around the edge of the table rather than pick up another one. He’s quiet, waiting for Buck to find his way to what’s next, but Buck feels like he’s back in the warehouse fire, alone and lost with a desperate task on his shoulders and no way out. </p>
<p>Eddie walks slowly around to Buck’s side of the table and stops beside him, close enough Buck can hear his steady breathing. </p>
<p>“You know, when you said you’d been up and down both coasts, I didn’t properly imagine the scope.” </p>
<p>“I was running.” Buck says. “Maddie kept them because…because I was doing what she couldn’t, maybe. But I ran. Every one of those postcards is proof. Every time something didn’t work out. Every time it got hard.” </p>
<p>Eddie turns back to the pile for a minute, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “Okay.” </p>
<p>Buck swallows, chest tight. Eddie looks back at him and there’s something so intense in his eyes Buck feels it’ll burn him if he gets too close. Eddie takes his hand, turning it so it rests palm up in his, and his other hand reaches up to the back of his own neck. It’s not until he drops his St. Christopher medal into Buck’s palm that Buck understands what he was doing. He curls Buck’s fingers closed over the medal and wraps both his hands around Buck’s fist.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he says again, “but that’s my proof. I ran. When Chris was born. And from Texas—my parents—later. Bobby ran, too. Everyone runs sometimes.”</p>
<p>Buck has to turn away from from burning ember in Eddie’s brown eyes. He looks down at the postcards, tries to see them as Maddie does—a thread connecting the two of them through time—or as Eddie does—stepping stones through Buck’s past leading here. But he still feels each disappointment, each ill-fitting job, each broken relationship. He still feels unsteady, because he spent so long searching for a place to belong before he got to LA and he doesn’t know how to trust that what he built here is sound enough to stand. Eddie’s hands are warm and sure on his. </p>
<p>“How do you know? How do you know I wont just give up again?” Buck asks. Because Eddie <em>trusts</em> him. </p>
<p>“You saved a man’s life today by not giving up. <em>You</em> did that. And the people who love him will never forget it.” </p>
<p>“How do I…” <em>How do I know you won't run? How do I know I’m enough this time for someone to stay? </em>But it catches in his throat. </p>
<p>“What, you think the last couple years have been <em>easy</em>?” Eddie asks with a half smile. “Hell, Buck, none of us are on our first tries, even if Hen and Chimney didn’t cross half the country to get here. That’s what the 118 is. And we’re always going to have your back. Face it, Buck, you’re stuck with us.” </p>
<p>Eddie steps right into Buck’s space, chin tipped up, and now Buck can’t not meet his eyes. </p>
<p>“Or you are, at the very least, stuck with me. Whatever happens, you’re not getting out of this partnership.” </p>
<p>“Not least. Being stuck with you is not at all the least.” Buck says and Eddie smiles like Buck’s handed him a gift. </p>
<p>“Good, because you are. Me and Chris.” </p>
<p>“Even better.” </p>
<p>Eddie's smile widens with a flash of teeth and he laughs. He’s close enough, still, Buck can feel the burst of air across his face. Buck kisses him. </p>
<p>It’s a slow kiss. Eddie exhales shakily and parts his lips. Buck teases, swiping his tongue across Eddie’s bottom lip, but doesn’t press in. He wants to savor not rush, could exist for hours in the soft drag of their lips working together. The metal of Eddie’s St. Christopher medal digs into Buck’s palm, still clasped between Eddie’s hands, and trapped between their bodies. He runs his other hand up over Eddie’s back to cradle his face, delighting in the rough feel of the stubble against his palm. </p>
<p>Eddie works one hand free and glides it across Buck’s chest until it’s pressed flat over his heart. He holds it there, where he must be able to feel the hammer of Buck’s heartbeat, for a long moment as they kiss. Then he’s pushing, still gentle, still slow, but firm and more insistent as Buck takes a moment to register what he means.</p>
<p>Buck shifts back half a step and blinks his eyes open, feeling like he’s coming up from underwater and the world’s a little out of focus. He doesn’t know when they moved so Eddie’s caged between his body and the table, and he didn’t step back far enough that Eddie could easily move away. Eddie flicks his eyes open and meets Buck’s. </p>
<p>“Sorry.” Buck says. He starts to step back further, to give Eddie space, but Eddie’s still holding his hand around the St. Christopher medal, the other still resting on his chest, and both clench when Buck moves, fingers hooking into the fabric of Buck’s shirt. And Buck didn’t let go either, hand still cupping the side of Eddie’s face, so he doesn’t get far. </p>
<p>“No, don’t be sorry, just…” Eddie closes his eyes again and his breath quivers as he exhales. The muscles of his jaw twitch.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Buck says again, because Eddie <em>has </em>to understand, has to know that Buck will love him however he’s allowed. “I didn’t mean…I don’t need you…you don’t have to…” But he trips over the words, neither tongue nor mind clear on what he wants to say. </p>
<p>“<em>Don’t</em> be sorry.” Eddie says again and there’s steel in his voice this time, which shuts off Buck’s stammering. “Just listen.” </p>
<p>There’s a beat of tense silence and Buck realizes he’s waiting for acknowledgement. He takes a deep breath and drops his hand to Eddie’s arm. “Okay. I’m listening.” Eddie’s lips quirk at the way he sounds a little petulant.</p>
<p>“I’m not saying no. I’m just saying not right now.” </p>
<p>If Buck could move without tearing out of Eddie’s hold, he would. He was braced for no. No is closure, is letting go and moving on, is once and forever being Eddie’s <em>best</em> <em>friend </em>the way other people mean it. No would be easier than maybe, than hope bright as it is painful. </p>
<p>Something must show on his face, because Eddie frowns. “Buck?”</p>
<p>Buck shakes his head. “I’m okay with how things are. I’m okay with <em>friends</em>.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s frown shifts from concerned to irritated. “<em>You </em>kissed me. <em>You’ve</em> been flirting with me for years. <em>You</em> practically jumped me after the well collapse and <em>you </em>walked out without even waking me up.”</p>
<p>“I know and I’m s—”</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Tell me what you want.” Eddie snaps. </p>
<p>Buck thinks <em>want </em>is a dangerous word. There are things his needs to survive—food, water, human connection—and things he loves—his jeep, Bobby’s cooking, the smell of the ocean, Eddie and Chris. But want lives between them. Want is therapy so he can be finer instead of fine. Want is the sense of meaning and belonging he gets from the job. Want is sleeping with Eddie pressed against his side and being woken up by the sound of his voice. Want is the softness of his lips and the heat of his skin. Want is terrifying.</p>
<p>“I’m…I love you.” Eddie says. It’s soft and firm. Buck stops breathing. “You are so frustrating. You’re reckless. You have a compulsion for big, showy gestures when they’re unnecessary and which I would normally hate, but don’t. And you put so much of yourself, all of yourself, into everything you do, which is amazing and sometimes terrifying, because we love you. You’re loved.”</p>
<p>“You’re in love with me?” Buck says. It feels like something he should clarify to be certain.</p>
<p>“You have a heart so fucking big I don’t understand it sometimes. You take care of Chris like…like he’s your world too. You treat me like I…You’re kind and brave and gorgeous.” Eddie swallows and wets his lips. “So yes, I’m in love with you.” </p>
<p>Buck can’t even smile, he’s too focused on leaning in for another kiss, but Eddie shoves his chest, harder than before. </p>
<p>“Stop.” </p>
<p>Buck jerks back, pulling against the grip Eddie has fisted in his shirt so that the fabric stretches tight across his shoulders. “<em>I’m</em> frustrating.” Confused is more accurate, but there’s a little frustration too, because if Eddie’s in love with him, he could have just flirted back. Once. Buck doesn’t think it would have taken a lot to get him on board.</p>
<p>“I said it’s not no, it’s just—”</p>
<p>“Not right now. Got it. Tell me what <em>you</em> want, then.” Buck can’t help the vein of annoyance in his voice. </p>
<p>“Buck.” Eddie sighs, exasperated. “We can’t do this now. Like this. If we do, you and me, we’ll screw it up.”</p>
<p>A cold sliver of ice lodges in his chest. He can’t almost get this and then lose it in the same night. “I don’t know what you mean.” </p>
<p>“You had a close call today. You were fighting with Maddie until a few hours ago. Over a secret you just learned that your family’s been keeping from you your whole <em>life</em>.”</p>
<p>“And that has to do with us making out or not, how exactly?”</p>
<p>Eddie rolls his eyes and fixes Buck with a look that says in addition to frustrating and gorgeous, Eddie currently finds him a little dense.</p>
<p>“Last time we tried this, you—no, nevermind that. Neither of us has a great track record with making sound relationship decisions when we’re stressed. Tell me you were fine when you texted to come over tonight. Tell me you didn’t just have an identity crisis over a stack of old postcards. If you can tell me that, you can kiss me, I’m in.” </p>
<p>“I…I can’t.” Buck shakes his head and looks down at their hands, at the way Eddie’s is folded over his, fingers curled loosely around his wrist. The St. Christopher medal feels heavy against his palm and it’s hard to swallow around the lump in his throat.</p>
<p>Eddie’s thumb rubs across his wrist. “It’s okay.” He says, voice unbearably fond, and Buck looks back up. “We don’t <em>have </em>to start now. We’re not really starting anyway, more…realigning.” </p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Just stay here tonight and we can talk in the morning. And the day after if we need to.”</p>
<p>“You, Eddie Diaz, <em>you </em>want to spend the next couple days talking. About our feelings?” Buck gives him an exaggerated skeptical look. </p>
<p>“Shut up.” </p>
<p>“Make me.” It slips out. The arched eyebrow, smirking look Eddie gives him in return is half thrilling, half intimidating.</p>
<p>Then Eddie surges forward, kissing him hard, all teeth for a beat, followed by a flurry of sweeter kisses that stay gentle even as he bodily crowds him backwards. Eddie’s hands are <em>everywhere. </em>Then he’s gone, completely. Buck’s left panting, trying to get his breath back, and Eddie’s standing in the kitchen doorway fixing his St. Christopher necklace back around his neck.</p>
<p>“What the…” Buck gasps and stares at him, definitely at a loss for words. Eddie smirks. </p>
<p>“I’m going to bed. You should put those away if you don’t want Chris getting into them.” Eddie points to the postcards still scattered across the kitchen table. </p>
<p>Buck looks at them and sees stories. Stories that made him who he his, got him to this place and time, with Eddie smirking at him across the kitchen and the echo of his kiss still on Buck’s lips, so a pretty good place and time to be in. Stories he really wouldn’t mind sharing with Chris. </p>
<p>“Nah, it’s fine. But I gotta shower and change. Join you in a bit?” Buck asks hesitantly. Eddie had said <em>stay tonight, we’ll talk more in the morning</em>, and he’d said <em>no, not right now</em>. </p>
<p>His smile is warm. “Yeah. Join me when you’re ready.” </p>
<p>Eddie turns and is halfway down the hall to his room before Buck realizes that he didn’t—</p>
<p>“Shit, Eddie, wait.”</p>
<p>Eddie turns back, brows drawn together in concern. Buck closes the distance between them and kisses the crease there, then his lips again, hard and quick. He takes his hand, interlacing their fingers, and strokes his cheek, because he wants to be touching him to say—</p>
<p>“I love you too.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>scene timeline:<br/>1. just after the end of season 3<br/>2. season 3-4 hiatus, during lockdown<br/>3. later in lockdown<br/>4. just after the LS crossover<br/>5. after Buck Begins</p>
<p>Kudos and comments appreciated, happy to hear what you liked or didn't.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. in other words, baby, kiss me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The End. Or the Beginning, depending on how you look at it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie wakes pressed into Buck’s warmth and breathes. Some part of him, by the tightness in his chest and the way his heart’s pounding, had believed he was going to wake up alone again. He relaxes against Buck’s side, looking up through his eyelashes to watch him sleep. It’s nice, but he wants to pee, and check on Chris, and start coffee. They have a shift today. </p>
<p>Eddie leverages himself up onto his elbow, still unable to pull his eyes away. When he was staying at the loft, they developed habits and Eddie’d usually be the first one awake. He’d slip out of bed and go downstairs to make coffee without bothering Buck, but this time he doesn’t want Buck to wake alone. </p>
<p>Eddie’s hand goes to Buck’s shoulder, intending to shake him awake, but he pauses. Instead, he slides his hand down across Buck’s chest, too gentle to wake him, though he makes a soft noise in his sleep. Eddie ducks his hand under the edge of Buck’s shirt, where it’s ridden up, and strokes across the skin of his stomach. </p>
<p>He wants to kiss the path his fingers take, wants to wake him up <em>properly</em>, but he thinks they have to be smart about this. If they mess it up again, Eddie’s not sure they’ll get another chance. Buck stirs, muscles flexing under Eddie’s palm, and blinks his eyes open. </p>
<p>“This is a pleasant way to wake up.” Buck says, voice still lazy with sleep. Eddie withdraws his hand but then, because he can’t quite help it, pets his hand through Buck’s hair instead. It’s long, curling over his fingers. Buck hums contentedly and presses into Eddie’s touch.</p>
<p>“You stayed.” Eddie says, unthinking.</p>
<p>Buck’s eyes go wide for a beat then he grins. “Well, you promised if I did we could talk. About <em>feelings</em>.” </p>
<p>Eddie knees his leg, and Buck’s hand darts out under the covers to curl around his thigh. </p>
<p>“I did say that. And I meant it. But first we have to get out of bed. And get coffee.” </p>
<p>Buck pouts and runs his hand higher up Eddie’s thigh, but there’s no real intention behind it. “Since you already woke me up, I can do coffee and breakfast. You shower or whatever.” </p>
<p>Eddie almost leans down to kiss him. It would be easy to do so and easy to throw his leg over Buck’s hip and start something more. Buck’s eyes on him are a little wide, his breathing shallow, and Eddie bites his lip, considering.</p>
<p>“Weren’t you getting up?” Buck says, moving his hand to shove lightly at Eddie’s hip.</p>
<p>Eddie pulls himself away and gets up. “I thought that was <em>we</em> were getting up. You promised me breakfast and coffee.” Buck chuckles and gets up too, stretching as he does. </p>
<p>Eddie checks Chris is still sleeping, more habit than necessity now that he’s nine, then takes one of the quickest showers of his life and gets dressed with the same rush. Buck’s pouring two cups of coffee and has the fixings for scrambled eggs out on the counter when Eddie joins him in the kitchen. Buck hands him a cup and leans back against the counter.</p>
<p>The postcards are spread out on the kitchen table where they left them last night. Eddie wants to read every one of them a hundred times until he could trace the path of Buck’s twenties in his sleep. He wants to know everything there is to know about Buck, or at least everything Buck is willing to share, and he thinks he wants to spend the rest of his life learning those things. But of course, standing across from Buck first thing in the morning, he doesn’t know what to say to start.</p>
<p>“This is going to bug you,” Buck says, taking a sip of his coffee, “but I’m sorry. I really didn’t think you were interested.” </p>
<p>Eddie stares at him and takes a sip of his own coffee, trying to make that make sense in his head. “After we had sex? You didn’t think I was interested.” </p>
<p>“People do that. Have sex with people they don’t want to have a relationship with.” Buck shrugs, but there’s a forced, disingenuous air to it. “And it was a weird night.” He swallows loudly. “I flirted with you for <em>months</em>, and you didn’t bat an eye, or wink, or anything.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t ready.” Eddie says. “I didn’t want to lead you on and make you wait or…or get in your way of finding someone else.”</p>
<p>“I would have waited. You were already in my way. I wanted to ask you out after I left Abby’s, but then you were with Shannon and I started dating Ali. But…I still wanted to.” He tilts his head, gaze steady on Eddie’s, and it’s Eddie who looks away, studying his coffee. </p>
<p>“Why did you leave that morning, if that’s how you felt?” Now that they’re talking, Eddie can admit that’s a question he’s wanted to ask for half a year. Though even with <em>I love </em><span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>yous</em></span> already said between them, part of him fears the answer; he’s no stranger to <em>I love you but</em> <em>not enough.</em> </p>
<p>“Because I’m an idiot.” Buck says lightly.</p>
<p>“Buck.” Eddie hisses.</p>
<p>Buck snorts. “I stand by that answer, but also, because I thought you would say it was a mistake and it’d be easier if I did it myself. And I thought it was the best thing for us, because I couldn’t risk you leaving for real.”</p>
<p>“I’m really not going anywhere. Really.” </p>
<p>He can tell Buck wants to believe it, but it’ll take more saying, more time, before he does, and Eddie doesn’t blame him. His own insecurities run just as deep. </p>
<p>“What were youthinking? You didn’t say anything after.” Buck asks.</p>
<p><em>That I wasn’t enough for you to want to stay. </em>“That you wanted to leave, and I wasn’t going to press you into anything you didn’t want.” </p>
<p>Buck takes a long, slow drink of coffee. “Okay, probably a good thing we’re having this chat, then. What now?”</p>
<p>“I don’t actually know.” All Eddie had really been certain of when he stopped the kiss and suggested they talk, was that he didn’t want to repeat the past.</p>
<p>Buck reaches over and hooks two fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s jeans to draw him closer. Eddie takes a step in and rests his hand on Buck’s hip, feeling the jut of the bone through the thin cotton of his shirt. </p>
<p>“I like waking up with you, and drinking coffee with you, so more of this would be good.” Buck says softly. </p>
<p>Eddie smiles. “Okay, me too.” </p>
<p>“And I like this,” he brushes a soft kiss across Eddie’s lips.</p>
<p>“With you there, too.” Eddie says. </p>
<p>Buck flashes a sunshine smile then turns serious. “I don’t want to screw this up either, Eddie. You were right last night. I was a mess and stuck up in my head.” </p>
<p>“So how are you feeling this morning?” Eddie asks, rubbing his thumb over Buck’s hip. </p>
<p>“Better. Still a little…rough. But I’m coming to terms with it all, I guess. I can forgive Maddie. And I can forgive my parents. Eddie?” </p>
<p>“Hmm?” Eddie steps closer, reaching around Buck to set his coffee mug on the counter behind him. He takes Buck’s coffee out of unprotesting fingers as well and sets it aside. Now he can put both hands on Buck’s hips, holding tight. Buck wraps his arms around Eddie in a loose hug, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, twisting it around his fingers and occasionally grazing the skin of his lower back.</p>
<p>Buck closes his eyes. “I’m so tired of being alone.” He says and Eddie feels like his whole body flinches, instinctively trying to press closer, hands clenching on Buck’s hips.</p>
<p>“Buck. You’re—”</p>
<p>Buck's eyes flick open. “I’m okay with slow or glacial or rushed hand jobs right now. Whatever you need to feel okay about this. But <em>I’m so tired of being alone</em> and I want to be with you, without holding back. If that’s what you want? And if it’s not, shit, you have to tell me now—”</p>
<p>“It is.” Eddie captures his gaze, holds it, and wills Buck to believe how much Eddie means it. “I don’t need slow or glacial. And Chris will be up literally any minute, so raincheck on the third option; that is <em>not </em>how I want to tell him.” He’s getting off track, can see it in the way Buck’s eyes flick a way for a second. “What I need is…”</p>
<p>They have so many of the same insecurities, so many overlapping, unhelpful habits, that this is going to be a mess, but God, Eddie wants to try.</p>
<p>“What I needed was to tell you the truth. And know this matters to you, too, not just when one of us almost dies or has our world turned upside down, but the morning after, too.” Eddie feels stretched thin and overexposed. He <em>wants </em>to step back, to take a deep breath outside the circle of Buck’s arms and the focus of his gaze, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to let go of his own hold on Buck and he can’t have both, so he doesn’t move.</p>
<p>Buck ducks his head and takes his own deep breath. “Okay. It <em>does</em> matter to me.” He pulls Eddie flush against him and drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Always.” Buck adds, whispered and muffled between their bodies, and he turns to press a kiss to the corner of Eddie’s jaw. </p>
<p>When he straightens, he’s smiling. “That mean we’re doing this?” </p>
<p>Eddie chuckles. “Yes.” </p>
<p>They meet in a kiss. Buck cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair and Eddie holds him tightly. It’s slow and deep and complete in itself, not leading to anything—there’s a kid who’ll be wanting breakfast and work to get to soon. Eddie wants a million more, a lifetime more, kisses just like this. It’s an agreement, that they’re on the same page, that they’ll have more intimate conversation kisses, hungry foreplay kisses, ordinary everyday kisses and everything in between. </p>
<p>Eddie hears Chris’ door open and footsteps move down the hall to the bathroom, and he breaks away from Buck's embrace. Buck reaches over to click on the stove for breakfast. He’s smiling like he can’t help it, and Eddie feels the same.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is it for the main series, though I have some alternate POVs and unused scenes I might polish and post for extra fun. </p>
<p>Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!!! Kudos/comments always appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>scene timeline:<br/>1. during and after 3.10 - Christmas Spirit<br/>2. after 3.14 - The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1<br/>3. after 3.15 - Eddie Begins<br/>4. after 3.16 - The One That Got Away<br/>5. towards the end of 3.18 - What’s Next</p><p>Kudos and comments (what you like or even what you didn't) are appreciated and make me smile.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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